


In Which Worlds Collide

by MagentaMauve



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Gen, Humour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagentaMauve/pseuds/MagentaMauve
Summary: When a mysterious disaster leaves the Tallest with no choice but to hide out on earth, Dib is forced to do something in order to keep his planet safe that he never would have imagined: Save the IRKEN race. That is, if he can stay sane long enough. And you thought dealing with one IRKEN was bad! Reviews are greatly appreciated!





	1. In Which Everything Goes Wrong (As Usual) And Tallest Red Makes a Terrible Pun

 

Dib wished he could say that this was unusual.

 

He really, really did. He wished he could look back on this day and think about how weird it had been, how nothing had seemed to make sense, how he had never expected anything like this, but honestly, Zim screwing up to the point of self-destruction wasn’t unusual in the slightest.

 

The fact that he might actually succeed in taking the whole planet with him however, was.

 

As he watched his enemy hanging upside down from the point of the shiny, metal contraption by the skirt of his ridiculously pink uniform, he reflected on the irony of that fact that if Zim actually succeeded in his latest endeavor he wouldn’t be around to enjoy it.

 

Then again, neither would Dib.

 

Or anyone else.

 

Or the earth, for that matter.

 

He also reflected on the fact that he had only just now noticed that the tiny invader’s uniform was essentially a dress, and wondered how in the heck he had missed that before. For a militarized planet aiming towards galaxy-wide domination, it would seem that IRK was actually pretty darn progressive when it came to gender roles.

 

He glanced up at the cracked screen of the monitor atop the rickety silver machine, “15:00 minutes until total system failure”. Alright Dib, you’ve got fifteen minutes to save the earth, use them well.

 

Trying to ignore his pounding heart and the feeling of dread creeping through every part of his body like the blood in his veins, Dib did the only sensible thing, which was of course, to run around in circles while shrieking at the top of his lungs.

 

Once he had gotten that out of his system, Dib took a deep breath and assessed his situation.

 

He had nearly had a heart attack when the bolt of lightning struck. Not out of any sort of sympathy for Zim, of course, but it had just been so _sudden_. One second, Zim had been perched precariously on the top of his hastily constructed Seismic Disrupter (Dib wasn’t exactly certain, but from Zim’s ramblings, it seemed that his latest plan to destroy all life on earth was to simply shake the earth so hard that everything else fell off, while he bolted for the Voot Cruiser and left the atmosphere with Gir. How this was supposed to work was beyond him, but he had begun to suspect that Zim didn’t exactly have a good grasp of the laws of physics) and the next, he was hanging upside down off of metal beam, charred and drooling.

 

Under any other circumstance, Dib would have been anywhere from pleased to laughing triumphantly, but any other circumstance did not involved a Seismic Disrupter gone haywire and about to obliterate the entire planet that _only Zim had the ability to turn off_!

 

Moments before the lightning struck, he had announced that he was “Turning the dial thingies of destruction to ensure the correct amount of seismic activity. Too much and the whole thing just blows up, you know? Wouldn’t want that,” and as far as Dib could see, every dial was currently set on max, and all six of them were locked. “Wouldn’t want that,” indeed.

 

Normally, he would have just turned it off himself, but for once in his life, it would seem that Zim had thought ahead, as the entire machine was password protected. He had scrambled up the shoddy tower of metal beams as quickly as he could, praying that lightning wouldn’t strike the same place twice (It didn’t do that, right? Wait, was that a myth? Or was that being a myth the myth? Oh well, no time for that now.), and tried literally every password he could think of, everything from “Doom” to “death to humans” to “All hail the Almighty Tallest” (And he had though that _earth_ had some stupid forms of government) to “Taco-Monkey-Hat” before realizing that it was hopeless. Knowing Zim, the password could be almost anything. Heck, he might even have let _Gir_ choose, which in that case meant that he could guess for ten thousand years and still never figure it out. Who knew what passed for logic in that robot’s mind?

 

Groaning, he swung himself over the side of the machine, landed precariously on the beam from which Zim was hanging, unhooked the stunned alien, dragged him up by his antenna, tossed the alien onto his back, and did his best to climb down with a dead weight hanging off of him, fingers slipping on the wet and slippery metal.

 

Dib guessed that Zim’s highly mechanized PAK hadn’t been able to take the force of what could have been a billion volts of electricity coursing through it all at once, and had gone into some sort of a shut-down mode while it tried to repair itself, the result being a nearly-unconscious Zim hanging upside from his own invention, barely moving and drooling slightly as he made the same noises Dib would have expected from a clinically brain-dead monkey.

 

Heaving and panting, Dib mustered up the last of his strength and slid the rest of the way down the pole, dropping Zim and landing hard, right on his back.

 

Seeing no other means of doing so- and because he felt like it- Dib stood over Zim and repeatedly slapped him in the face. While cathartic, this unfortunately did nothing. If anything, it made things worse, as Zim’s long, worm-like tongue was now hanging pathetically out of his mouth as he drooled, falling into the dirt. Could IRKENs choke on their tongues?

 

Think, Dib! Think! Slapping him hadn’t worked, the sting of the rain didn’t work, pain was (Unfortunately), not going to be the answer.

 

His gaze wandered to the metal device jutting out from between Zim’s shoulder blades. From what little he knew of the strange piece of technology, it acted as a sort of miniature supercomputer, a backup device to the IRKEN’s brain, recording their personality and memory. Well, when a computer froze you restarted it. Perhaps he could do the same with Zim?

 

Not having any idea of how this would work, Dib selected a spot on Zim’s PAK at random and hit it as hard as he could.

 

Zim sat bolt upright, made a noise like a fax machine, and immediately fell back over. Okaaay… Clearly that one wasn’t going to work.

 

He tried every combination possible, which resulted in deploying the PAK’s monstrous spider-like metal legs, causing Zim to have some sort of a seizure, a variety of other strange noises, and the PAK to open up and launch a barrage of sandwiches directly into his face.

 

Wiping an absolutely disgusting combination of mayonnaise, mustard, and _maple syrup_ , off of his face, Dib was about to simply sink to his knees and give an appropriately overdramatic cry of defeat, when an equally overdramatic cry of “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” reached his ears.

 

He looked up just as Gir, crying hysterically, hurled himself off of the metal platform and plummeted to earth, landing headfirst in the dirt. Why the lightning strike had’t affected him, was anyone’s guess. Perhaps he was just too broken to begin with? After digging himself out, he leapt at Zim and Dib, falling on his tiny metal knees beside his master’s prone form.

 

“MY SANDWICHES!” Gir, shrieked, tears pouring down his face. “They was my favourite!” Sobbing, he licked what remained of them out of Dib’s wet hair.

 

“Mmm!” The little robot immediately brightened up. “Never mind, they still taste good!” He grabbed a glob of mayonnaise from behind Dib’s ear, sat himself down, and munched away happily.

 

Of course! The robot! In all of the commotion he had completely forgotten that he was there.

 

“Gir!” He shouted! “The machine! Do you know how to turn it off?”

 

“Of course I do!” Gir stood and daintily dusted himself off. “You just put in the password!”

 

Very helpful.

 

“And what _is_ the password, Gir? He said, shaking the little robot by his tiny shoulders.

 

“I..!” He paused and screwed up his face as though deep in thought, “I don’t know.” He said, and sat back down on the ground with a little “thud”.

 

“Well, is there anyone who _would_ know?” Dib asked. He was grasping at straws, but at least it was better than nothing.

 

“Hmm…” Gir gave the matter some thought. “Oh! Oh! You coulds ask the string beans!”

 

“The… String beans?” Somehow, Dib doubted that talking to a dinnertime side-dish was going to help.

 

“You knoooooow,” said Gir, blinking at him. “The string beans! They’s green, and reaaaaaaal tall. I think almost… This tall!” he stretched his little arm up in the air above his head as far as it would reach, which, truth be told, wasn’t very far. “ _They made me!_ ” he whispered with a certain reverence.

 

Wait, green? Tall?

 

“Are you talking about the Almighty Tallest? Zim’s leaders?”

 

“Probably,” Gir shrugged, “You want some coleslaw?” he reached into the top of his head and held out a handful to Dib.

 

Ignoring Gir, Dib grabbed ahold of him by the clean hand and took off in the direction of Zim’s base.

 

Of course! Zim’s leaders! They might have some kind of override code! From what he knew of IRKENs, they spent their time roaming the galaxy, finding hospitable planets and wiping out whatever life happened to be unlucky enough to inhabit it in order to repurpose the planet for… IRKEN… Stuff. Alright, so he was a little fuzzy on the details, but that didn’t matter now! The point was, that if the Tallest had sent Zim to conquer earth it must have some sort of value to them, and he guessed that it wouldn’t be half as valuable if it were blown to smithereens. Besides, from what he understood there were only a limited number of invaders, so surely they wouldn’t want to lose one if they could help it, right?

 

He bolted down the street, weaving in and out of alleyways, and impressed even himself by vaulting over Zim’s yard gnomes and landing at the front door.

 

His landing could use a little work, he reflected, as he rolled head over heels through the door and into the house.

 

Standing, he rushed to the view screen, currently cleverly disguised as a quite frankly _disturbing_ portrait of a monkey, found the secret dial pad hidden under the arm of the couch, and hit as many buttons as he could.

 

After accidentally contacting a very confused Vortion who cried out for his children, a giant blue blob of pulsating jelly, and a thorny-looking alien that just sat there and screamed, he shut it off and turned to Gir.

 

“Gir!” He yelled, “Quickly, dial the Tallest for me!”

 

Gir jumped to attention, stance wide, eyes red and glowing, _“Impossible, access denied!”_

 

“Come on!” He pleaded, looking for something, anything, he could use as a bargaining chip. “I’ll give you this useless, rusty washer!” He said, reaching into his coat pocket and retrieving it.

 

“Okey-dokey!” Gir replied, taking the washer from Dib and smiling at the boy. He stuck his tiny robot tongue out (Wait, why did the robot have a tongue? Focus, Dib!) and punched in a few numbers on the dialing pad.

 

Dib took a deep breath, stood before the view screen, and found himself face-to-face with the image of a rather uncomfortable looking IRKEN communications officer.

 

“Yes, I need to speak to your leaders!”

 

“Er, I’m afraid that the Tallest are… Uh… Busy at the moment.”

 

From off-screen came the unmistakable sounds of music and merriment, Dib watched, dumbfounded as confetti and streamers, bright red and purple, every one of them, rained down from the ceiling.

 

“He’s dead! He’s finally dead!”

 

“I knew it would happen one day! I knew it!”

 

“Woo-hoo!”

 

Dib had literally nothing to say as the Tallest sauntered across the view screen, each holding a glass of fizzy, bright green liquid, wearing party hats, and doing what he swore to Lincoln’s ghost was a _tango_ all the while shrieking with glee, “ZIM IS DEAD! ZIM IS DEAD!”

 

“What the-?”

 

“Oh hey, look! It’s the kid with the fat head!”

 

Oh great, first it was big, now it was fat. Except it wasn’t. Dib’s head was neither fat _nor_ big, thank you very much.

 

“My head’s not-! Never mind. I really, really, really need to speak with you!

 

“Well normally, we wouldn’t waste time engaging in conversation with such primitive, inferior life forms-“ began the red one, “but since this is such a special occasion, why not?” finished the purple one.

 

“After all, with Zim being dead, there is literally nothing you could say that could possibly ruin this day.”

 

“But… Zim’s still alive.”

 

The music came to an appropriately screeching halt, both Tallest looked at him in shock, and Red who had unfortunately had his partner in a dip, promptly dropped Purple on the floor (Dib wasn’t certain of their names, so “Red” and “Purple” would have to do for now).

 

“Impossible! His pak’s been deactivated!” said Red, as Purple pulled himself off of the floor and gave his head a good shake, “The signal came in over fifteen minutes ago! The whole thing is fried, kaput!”

 

“You’re right about the “fried” part,” said Dib, “but he’s not dead! He’s breathing and everything. He just got zapped by lightning and now he won’t wake up. Although he _does_ make some pretty weird noises now.”

 

“He got himself hit-“ said Purple.

 

“By lightning?” Finished Red.

 

The two turned to each other, sighed, turned back to Dib and said in unison, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

 

“Darn it,” Red scowled, “seems like our celebrations were a bit premature. You!” He pointed at a tiny, green-eyed IRKEN who stood in the corner, “Clean this mess up!”

 

“I was going to declare it a national holiday and everything,” Said a dejected Purple.

 

“I know you were, buddy, I know,” Red patted Purple’s shoulder in sympathy.

 

“The lightning strike must have burned some of the PAK’s circuits and set off the deactivation signal without the host actually being deactivated,” Red pondered, “Dang it! I should have known it was too good to be true.” He pulled the conical hat from his head and crumpled it in his claws, Purple did the same, but instead opted to throw it at the janitorial drone, the pointed end landing squarely in the poor little janitor’s left eye.

 

“Anyway, listen, Zim’s got this big machine set to blow up the planet, it’s password-protected, and I know we’re not exactly on the same team, but if you give me the overwrite code, then I can- “Wait a minute, why were you _celebrating_?”

 

“What do you mean, _”why”_? Asked Red, raising a non-existent eyebrow at him.

 

“Exactly that! You had party hats, you were… Dancing! You… You really wanted him dead?”

 

“Hmm… Yeah, that about sums it up.”

 

“But… Why? I mean, if Zim’s dead, then you guys don’t get earth! And you’ve lost one of your elite invaders.”

 

“You mean you _really_ haven’t figured it out?”

 

“Man, humans _are_ dumb,” said Purple, shaking his head sadly.

 

“Come on, surely even a primitive life form like you must be able to see that Zim is a complete idiot.”

 

Well, he couldn’t argue with that.

 

“The only reason he’s even on your pathetic little planet to begin with is that we needed him out of the way. We didn’t want him screwing everything up for the rest of the invaders, so we sent him to a planet as far away as possible.”

 

“To be perfectly honest, we didn’t even know if there _was_ a planet out there.”

 

“For all we knew, Earth could have just been a glob of space dust.”

 

“Or a useless rock.”

 

“Or one of those sentient space-molds that only wakes up every two thousand years.”

 

“Or a giant ball of Havarti cheese.”

 

“Wait, why would there be a giant ball of cheese floating in the far reaches of space?” Red asked incredulously.

 

“Don’t stomp on my dreams.”

 

Dib stared, open-mouthed, “You’re joking!”

“Believe me, tiny human, we joke about a lot of things, but getting that egotistical, self-centered, idiotic, moronic, irritating, paranoid, completely delusional, _mess_ as far away from us as possible, is not one of them.” Purple looked him dead in the eye.

 

“What he said,” Red added helpfully

 

“You know, some people have said _we’re_ egotistical-“

 

“Not that they lived long after that, of course-“

 

“But trust me, when it comes to egos, Zim’s is the size of, well, this very ship.”

 

“You might say it’s… _Massive_.”

 

Purple gave Red the dirtiest look possible. “ _No,_ just… No.”

 

Red shrugged, “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

 

“Anyway, the point is, we wanted that little egomaniac to stop tangling our antenna and wrecking every other invasion attempt.”

 

“Would you believe that the first time we tried this he almost destroyed our entire home planet?”

 

“Honestly?” Dib said, “Yes.”

 

“So you _have_ noticed!”

 

“But… But… Even if he’s dumb, don’t you want your invader back? Don’t… Don’t you want earth? If you tell me how to overwrite his machine, you can have it. It’s going to blow earth up into a billion little pieces!”

 

This was a lie, (He hoped) there was no way he would really let those slimy green… Whatever they were (Bugs? Were they bugs?) have the planet, but if it came to trying to use the earth itself as a bargaining chip, then so be it. It would be better to have to try to defend earth from a full-scale alien invasion and possibly lose than to have it blown up and guarantee a loss.

 

Both Tallest looked at him and smirked.

 

“Let’s see, so, what you’re telling us is, your pathetic little planet is going to explode _with Zim on it_ , destroying not only Zim, but the annoying little boy who keeps bothering us?” Purple raised one antenna.

 

“Two for the price of one, huh? Works for me!” Red laughed, “See you later, head-boy.”

 

“Or not, because, you know, you’ll be dead.”

 

“Arrivederci!”

 

Dib didn’t even give himself the luxury of trying to figure out how an alien billions upon billions of miles away knew what “Arrivederci” meant. Then again, for some reason he had never questioned why they all seemed to speak English, either. Come to think of it, that _was_ pretty weird. Focus, Dib!

 

He stared blankly as the screen went black.

 

That was it. There was nothing to be done. He was doomed. Earth was doomed. Doomed, doomed, doomed, doomed doomed.

 

Doomed.

 

Doomed, doomed, doomed.

 

He could hear it, actually, somewhere out there, the plaintive cry of “doom, doom, doom”, as though the world itself were crying out in anguish.

 

Actually, it was more like “Doomy-doom-doom! Doomy-doom-doom! Doom, doom doom, doom!”

 

He turned around, and Gir was singing to himself, bobbing his head in time to the music he was creating. Well, “music” was giving it too much credit. In truth, he was just repeating the word “doom” over and over, to something that could only have been called a tune by a deaf orangutan.

 

“Gir!” He growled. Great, his last moments alive, and they would be spent being irritated by an idiot robot. “The world is about to _end_! Can you… Stop that?”

 

Gir blinked at him, “But I’m singin’ the doom song!” he said, as though that explained everything.

 

“Well, could you maybe, _not_ sing the doom song?” Dib asked through gritted teeth.

 

“But I loves the doom song!” Gir exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “I loves it soooo much! As much as- As!” He took a moment to search for the appropriate metaphor, “As much as master loves himself!”

 

Wait a minute…

 

There was no way.

 

Even Zim couldn’t possibly be that stupid.

 

And yet…

 

Dib took off out of the house at a sprint, rounding corners and sliding down slippery sidewalks as he ran, key words from his last two conversations repeating over and over inside his head:

 

_“As much as master loves himself!”_

 

_“Egotistical, self-centered…”_

_“…when it comes to egos, Zim’s is the size of, well, this very ship.”_

It was a long shot, the longest of long shots, but at this point, what did he have to lose? Nothing, that was what.

 

Skidding to an ungraceful stop, Dib found himself face-to-face with exactly what had started this whole mess: Zim’s Seismic Disrupter.

 

He glanced up at the countdown clock. Three minutes left.

 

With a determination he didn’t know he possessed, Dib ran to the nearest pole and began climbing like there was a pack of rabid sasquatches behind him. At least the rain had started to let up. Grunting and panting, he managed to pull himself up the pole and swung himself back onto the metal platform.

 

One minute.

 

Raising a shaking hand, he typed in his last guess.

 

At exactly 00:36 seconds left to imminent disaster, the machine’s display screen lit up with a, “Password accepted! Mission aborted, have a nice day!” complete with an icon of a happy, smiling IRKEN.

 

Incredible.

 

Absolutely incredible.

 

He hadn’t even had to type in more than a few letters.

 

Looking back on it, he was kicking himself for not having figured it out sooner.

 

_Zim’s password was “Zim”!_

 

Exhausted, Dib collapsed onto the floor with a noise of half frustration and half relief. He didn’t like to brag, of course, but score one for earth! Score one for _Dib!_ How many times was it now that he’d saved the world? A _lot_. Although it wasn’t as though anyone cared…

 

But he wasn’t going to think about that right now. He smiled to himself, relishing the feeling of success. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Zim’s unconscious form begin to twitch, and after several minutes, the little IRKEN managed to pull himself to his feet, swaying back and forth, still drooling, while his PAK shot out the occasional shower of sparks.

 

He could climb back down. He could jump on Zim just when he least expected it. He could grab ahold of him and drag him down to the police station, antenna and buggy eyes on full display.

 

He could do a lot of things right now, but honestly, he was too tired. Leave it for another day, Dib.

 

What he _would_ do was lie here and let the fatigue slowly take ahold of him, drifting off to sleep with a-

 

Thunder crashed in the distance, and Dib decided immediately to scrap his plan and do what he _should_ do, get down and get inside before lightning struck again!


	2. In Which Zim Gets Even Weirder, and Dib Puts a Pot On His Head.

Despite himself, Dib awoke in a relatively good mood. Maybe he was still riding the high of his victory from the previous day (He had tried announcing said victory to Gaz when he got home, but she had thrown a toaster at him), or maybe it was because he had finally gotten ahold of it: The one thing that could bring Zim down for good.

 

Zim was a lot of things, obsessive, neurotic, paranoid, but above it all he was _proud_. The knowledge that his beloved Tallest considered him a disgrace to the empire was going to _destroy_ him, and Dib was going to enjoy that oh, so much.

 

He took the stairs two at a time, practically skipping with joy.

 

He ate his cereal “grinning like an idiot” as Gaz put it, sauntered to school with a spring in his step, and sat down at his desk smiling so wide that Miss Bitters threatened to send him to get his mouth permanently stapled into a frown if he didn’t stop because “that joyful grin” was “hurting her soul”.

 

Alright, fine, maybe he was overdoing it a little. After all, you should never let the enemy know when you’ve got the drop on them. So Dib did his best to keep his face perfectly neutral as he waited for Zim. Even Miss Bitters gluing his hand to the desk when he couldn’t stop drumming his fingers with excitement didn’t dampen his spirits. Dib sat, and he waited.

 

And waited.

 

And waited.

 

And waited.

 

He glanced up at the clock. It was almost noon, and Zim still hadn’t show up.

 

Dib grumbled with impatience. How typical of Zim to be late on the one day he might actually have been looking forward to seeing him. It was like he was determined to spite Dib even when he had no idea he was even doing it. Nevertheless, Zim had been late many times before, so he was certain that in a few seconds Zim would burst through the door, announce loudly that he had arrived (Just in case anyone had missed it), and sit down at his desk like it was perfectly normal to show up to school almost three hours late with no explanation whatsoever.

 

Alright, maybe a few minutes…

 

Maybe a few hours?

 

When the bell rang and Zim still hadn’t shown up, Dib decided that he had officially moved down the happy scale from “overjoyed” to “happy but slightly irritated”. Oh well, it wasn’t as though Zim hadn’t skipped class before, locking himself up in his base to do God only knew what.

 

Scowling, Dib reminded himself to have patience. Popping Zim’s swollen ego would be just as satisfying no matter _when_ it happened.

 

Sighing as he sat up from his chair, he half-heartedly dragged his desk home, hand still firmly stuck to it, hoping his father might have a solvent that could unglue him.

 

***

 

Zim didn’t show up the next day (Although Dib _was_ required to pay for the desk that he had “stolen”).

 

Or the day after that.

 

Or even the day after that.

 

Alright, Dib’s mood had officially progressed into the territory of “frustrated”. He knew he had made a joke about Zim spiting him without even knowing it, but come on, this was ridiculous! Where was he?

 

That was it, he was tired of waiting. He was going to go to Zim’s base as soon as school let out and figure out what on earth was going on. Knowing Zim, the reason he hadn’t shown up to school was that he was planning something _big_ , so it would be best if Dib put a stop to it as soon as possible. Besides that, crushing his spirit would just be so much more _fun_ if he did it in the middle of one of Zim’s projects, all that hard work for nothing.

 

His face set in determination; he pulled out his notebook and began scribbling furiously, completely ignoring Miss Bitters’ current lecture on flesh-eating disease, and how there would inevitably be a world-wide outbreak that would cause the downfall of humanity. He had gotten past the gnomes last time, but he was pretty certain that he couldn’t pull off the adrenalin-fueled leap he had managed a few days ago a second time. He needed a plan of action, both to get _into_ Zim’s base, and to record the moment for future generations. Oh yes, he was going to _savor_ this.

 

Jeez, he was pretty vindictive for the good guy, wasn’t he?

 

***

 

Dib arrived at Zim’s base after school, thoroughly prepared.

 

Well, mostly prepared.

 

His father had refused to let him borrow the battle-armor after the incident with the giant chickens, so he had had to improvise by strapping various kitchen utensils to himself. Each one of them had been outfitted with a tiny micro-transmitting device so that he could document Zim’s misery from as many angles as possible. Adjusting the pot on his head, he took a deep breath and stepped forward.

 

Alright, so he looked ridiculous, but not half as ridiculous as Zim was going to feel when he found out what his Tallest really thought of him. Onward, brave Dib!

 

He stepped forward, holding up his protective colander with both hands, intent on deflecting any gnome-lasers, but to his surprise, none came.

 

Carefully, so carefully, he edged closer to the nearest gnome, reached out his hand, and gave it a light tap, right on the forehead.

 

Nothing.

 

Emboldened, he tried giving it a good smack.

 

Still nothing.

 

As an experiment, he pulled back his fist and gave it a good, solid, punch.

 

Still nothing.

 

Aside from the fact that his hand now really hurt (Which, to be fair, was more on him than the gnome), it would seem that Zim’s sentries were now as harmless as any real lawn ornament.

 

First he didn’t show up to school, and now his gnome field was off? What in the heck was going on? This was getting weirder by the second.

 

Dib rushed to the door, and, having no better ideas, simply beat at it in the hopes that he could annoy Zim into coming back out. Truth be told, he did wonder if he had started a battle he couldn’t finish. Irritation may have been Zim’s one and only true talent, and even Dib would admit that he was very, very good at it.

 

He knocked until both of his hands had gone numb, but still, there was no sign of Zim. He was beginning to get the sinking sensation that something might actually be wrong, but quickly put that notion out of his head (Which was not big, in fact it was perfectly normal-sized). Zim had pulled something like this before, disappearing for months on end by apparently hiding in his toilet. There was a possibility he was doing it again, although he had never known Zim to use the same tactic twice. If nothing else, he always kept things interesting.

 

“Stuck in your toilet again, Zim?” He called through the door.

 

Still nothing.

 

“You got me once, Zim, but you’re not getting me again! If you think you can trick me into fusing with my chair a second time, you’re wrong!”

 

Silence.

 

Scowling, Dib rushed forward and pounded on the door as hard as he could.

 

“COME ON OUT, ZIM! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! JUST COME ON OUT, WHATEVER YOU’RE PLANNING WON’T WORK! STOP PLAYING AROUND AND JUST GET. OUT. HERE!”

 

All of a sudden the door swung open with such speed and force that Dib didn’t even have time to react. It smacked him right on the nose, hard. Ow! He felt the trickle of something warm running over his top lip, and realized that he was bleeding.

 

“What.”

 

It wasn’t a question.

 

Zim stood before him, shoulders slouched, contact lenses foggy, and wig placed haphazardly upon his head as though he has only tossed it on last minute. He looked like a mess, bags under his eyes, dirt clinging to his uniform, face set in a decided frown.

 

“Zim!” said Dib, with great enthusiasm, “Trying to hide from me, are we?”

 

“ _No_ ,” said Zim, coldly and deliberately, with none of his usual zeal.

 

Ok, weird. Nevertheless Dib carried on, “Well, you can hide no more!

 

Zim looked at him and let out a sigh. An actual, genuine, world-weary sigh.

 

“No, earth-boy. Zim was not hiding.”

 

“Can’t hide from the _truth_ , that is!”

 

The alien gave him a long, hard, almost sad look.

 

“I don’t have _time_ for this,” he hissed, and shut the door in Dib’s face.

 

Alright, that hadn’t exactly gone as planned. Never before had Dib seen Zim so subdued, so… Deadened. It was like trying to talk to a zombie. Was that what the problem was? Had Zim turned himself into a Zombie? … Again?

 

Taking a deep breath, Dib opened the door, surprised that Zim hadn’t even bothered to lock it. He followed the narrow beam of light peeking through the door, across dirty floors that clearly hadn’t been cleaned in days, to a dejected Zim, sitting curled up in the corner. He had pulled out his contact lenses and left his wig to slump pathetically off of his head.

 

“Zim? What’s going on?”

 

Normally, Dib would have expected a trap, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that Zim was a truly terrible actor. There was no way he could pull off this kind of despondency if he were just faking it.

 

“Go _away_ , Dib-creature,” said Zim, not even bothering to look over at him.

 

“Where’s Gir?” Dib asked, desperate for something to keep him talking. “And Minimoose?”

 

Zim grumbled and curled deeper into his corner.

 

“Zim?”

 

“Gir is downstairs, swimming in whipped cream. Minimoose is out getting his nubs polished. And DIB is here _irritating_ Zim, and he should GO AWAY!” He picked up his wig and threw it at Dib.

 

Dib looked first to the wig, now covered in cobwebs from landing on the dusty floor, and then to Zim, who still wouldn’t even look at him.

 

“What is your problem? This is over-dramatic, even for you.”

 

Zim hugged his knees to his chest and mumbled something he couldn’t make out.

 

“Come on, Zim, you’re acting like-! Like-!”

 

Realization washed over him.

 

“They told you!” he gasped.

 

“ _Who_ told me _what_ , smell-head?” Zim turned slightly to glower at him.

 

Wait, “smell-head?” It was like he had just stopped trying.

 

“The Tallest! Argh! They told you before I had the chance! Bet they did it just to spite me, too.”

 

“ _WHAT?_ ”

 

“About your mission!” Dib exclaimed, “About the fact that it’s fake! That they lied to you! Send you away just so you wouldn’t screw everything else up for them!”

 

There was silence. Deafening, empty silence, as Zim turned slowly to face Dib.

 

“YOU TELL LIIIIIEEEEESSSS!” He screamed, and quicker than a snake, he was on him, knocking him down, tiny claws grasping Dib’s head like it was caught in a vice.

 

“YOU! WILL! NOT! SPEAK! ILL! OF! THE! DEAD! FILTHY! STINK-BEAST!” He yelled, slamming Dib’s head hard onto the floor with each word. The impact knocked the pot from his head where it skittered across the floors. Then Zim got up and stalked away, turned around, came back, and started slamming Dib’s head against the floor again. ”THAT! IS! VERY! RUDE! EVEN! FOR! A! HUMAN!

 

Having finished his piece, he dropped Dib’s head mid-slam, got up, and turned from him, intent on stalking away properly this time.

 

“D-dead?” Dib tired his best to sit up, but his head ached and the room was spinning. The pot really hadn’t helped at all.

 

Zim drew in a sharp breath, tensed, exhaled, breathed again.

 

“ _Dead_ ,” he said, quietly, but with venom. “Dead. IRK is _gone_ , Dib. And every IRKEN within three star systems with it. Zim has no planet. Zim has no empire. Zim has no glory.” He slouched and walked away, slowly. “You won, meat-boy,” he said, and then completed the dramatic moment by flushing himself down the toilet.

 

Well, that kind of ruined the mood.

 

Dib stood up, wobbling, bare head sore and bruised. It took a few tries before he managed to keep his balance, not helped by the fact that he kept tripping over the remnants of his armor. He really hoped Dad wasn’t going to make him replace those, he’s already spent half of his savings on that stupid desk.

 

Unsteadily, he made his way to the door, shut it quietly, and began making his way home.

 

It was strange, it was stupid, but for whatever reason, maybe it was the absolute hopelessness in his voice, or the way that he had pulled into himself like a frightened turtle, but Dib actually believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter complete!
> 
> Thanks for all of the support and reviews! The next chapter should be coming out very soon, so please hold tight until then,
> 
> \- Mags


	3. In Which Dib Meets Some Unexpected Visitors and Also Probably Gets a Rash

Dib awoke at precisely 3:07 AM to someone screaming “WHAAAAAT!”

 

Sweet Squishsquatch’s great uncle Harry!

 

He clutched his hands to his chest, wondering if it was possible to die of a heart attack at the tender young age of eleven.

 

Breathing heavily, he sat bolt upright. What was going on? Was there someone in his room? Was Gaz playing a trick on him? He flicked on his bedside lamp, but saw no one.

 

Taking a moment to breathe properly, Dib shrugged, turned out his light, and pulled the covers back up over himself. He must have dreamed it, he decided, the stress of the previous few days must have given him nightmares. Best to just try to go back to sleep.

 

You know, he thought, as his eyes closed and he began drifting off, come to think of it, that voice had sounded an awful lot like-

 

“WHAAAAAAAT?”

 

_Zim._

Why was Zim in his room in the middle of the night? That was a whole new level of creepy that he didn’t even want to think about. And why was he just yelling “What?” at the top of his lungs?

 

Sighing, Dib got out of bed, turned on the light, and began tearing his room apart trying to figure out where Zim was hiding.

 

Not under his bed, although he was pretty certain that the moldy sandwich under there had been there so long that it had gained consciousness and was plotting his demise. He could have sworn he heard it growl at him. Never mind, he’d deal with that later.

 

Not in his closet, he thought, after extricating himself from a mountain of gadgets, books, and old stuffed animals. Alright, so maybe just shoving everything into his closet every time his dad asked him to clean up wasn’t such a good idea.

 

Not in his dresser drawers.

 

Not under the rug, in his pillowcases, hiding behind the curtain, or inside any of the stuffed animals. Despite himself, he had apologized to them as he ripped open the stitches lining their fat bellies, promising to sew them back together as soon as possible.

 

After he had pulled out every drawer, emptied their contents on the floor, and just generally made a mess of his room, Dib was almost convinced that he had hallucinated the whole thing, when another loud cry of “WHAT?” rang through the air.

 

It was coming from his computer?

 

Of course! The transmitter! He had left the pot with the transmitter in Zim’s base after Zim had knocked it off his head!

 

It looked like it was too broken to transmit video, but the audio was working just fine, a fact he was reminded of when Zim’s yell of “YOU HAVE TO SPEAK UP! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” rang through his speakers.

 

That was alright, he really hadn’t needed functioning eardrums, anyway.

 

“WHAT?!”

 

Alright, this was getting old really fast.

 

“You’re alive!” Zim cried, half astonished, half relieved.

 

What? Alive? Who was alive? Had some other IRKEN survived the… Whatever it was that had happened? Dib was still a little fuzzy on the details there.

 

“Oh, oh, of course! _I_ never had any doubts!”

 

Sure you didn’t Zim.

 

“Yes, yes! Of course! Zim will meet you shortly There is a ‘park’ nearby where you can land!” A pause. “It’s a human recreational thing,” Another pause, “They go out there to roll around in the _filthy_ , _DIRT,_ ” A third pause. “Yeah, I don’t get it either. Anyway, yes, Zim will meet you there!” There was buzz of static, some muffled clunks, and Dib could only assume that Zim had left the room to prepare for his meeting with whoever it was.

 

Well, clearly there was only one thing to do. Dib stumbled through the mess of his room, searching frantically for his gear. Where was it, where was it? Alright, there was his backpack, but where was his camera? Where were the night vision goggles? Come on, come on!

 

Scooping up some items he hoped would be useful, Dib opened his window and began carefully climbing down the wall, grateful that the security system was off. He really wasn’t in the mood to be turned into a bacon rind tonight.

 

*** 

 

He really hoped that this wasn’t poison ivy.

 

What did poison ivy look like again? It was a plant, so it was green. It had three leaves, right? Or did it have four? Then again, a lot of plants had both three and four leaves and none of them were poison ivy. Was he itchy? He felt like he might be itchy. Or was that just because he was thinking about maybe being itchy, and in reality he wasn’t actually itchy at all?

 

Crouched in the bushes, Dib watched the narrow stretch of field before him. He’d been waiting for nearly an hour (Alright, it probably hadn’t been that long, but he had no way of knowing as he had forgotten his watch) and there had been no sign of Zim or his mysterious visitors. Although it did give Dib time to think.

 

Dib’s mind was racing. His head was spinning.

 

There are probably several other cranium-related metaphors occurring at the moment, but he couldn’t think of any more.

 

How could someone take down an empire as expansive and vast as Irk? And they had destroyed the IRKEN home world, no less! What kind of alien had the power to do something like that? Had there been a rebellion? A rebellion that took only three days and had somehow managed to wipe out not just Irk but most of its armies as well? Unlikely, but then again, he hadn’t seen enough of the universe outside of earth to really judge. He hoped that it had been a rebellion, because the only other option was that an even greater, even deadlier superpower had decided to take them out, and he certainly didn’t want to have to deal with defending the earth from something like that.

 

A sudden “Quiet, Gir!” jerked him out of his reverie. Finally, there was Zim! He was standing by a little grove of trees and looking decidedly irritated. Beside him, Gir was bogeying down to music that only he could hear.

 

“You can dance, but no singing!” Zim whispered, “We have to be quiet! This may be the most important assignment of our lives.”

 

“Wooooooooooow!” Said Gir, and then immediately forgot what it was that had impressed him and went back to dancing.

 

The most important assignment of Zim’s life? Given the revelation that Zim’s invasion mission was a sham, that was, sadly, probably true. Who could he possibly be meeting? Was Tak desperate enough to turn to Zim for help? Was it Skoodge? Dib hadn’t seen him since the ghost incident. Where _was_ the fat little guy?

 

He watched as Zim’s expression brightened and he looked to the sky. Dib did the same, and saw a tiny pinkish light. Slowly, the light expanded as whatever it was got closer and closer. It was bright, now, very bright, so bright that Dib had to look away. Dib covered his eyes but heard a mighty crash as whatever it was made contact with the earth.

 

Right in front of Zim, who looked rather unconcerned for someone who was about three feet away from being crushed by a giant hunk of metal falling through the stratosphere, was what was definitely an IRKEN ship. It was completely round and silver, unlike the other ships he had seen, but Dib knew that is was definitely IRKEN because someone had thoughtfully emblazoned it with a giant picture of the IRKEN logo.

 

Light shone through the seams of the metal sphere, just as the door began opening and a metal ramp extended itself to the ground below.

 

Whoever this was sure knew how to make an entrance!

 

Dib watched as two shadowy figures exited the ship and began descending the ramp.

 

Dib couldn’t see who had exited the ship, but he _could_ see Gir. The little robot gasped at the sight of the new visitors, his metal hands flying to his mouth, blue eyes tearing up and practically sparkling. Without warning, the tiny SIR Unit leapt into the air towards the ship.

 

“MOMMIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

 

There were twin shrieks of dismay, and to Dib’s shock, Zim’s leaders stepped into view.

 

Well, “stepped” wasn’t the right word. They careened left and right, arms flailing as they attempted to dislodge the little metal menace who had wrapped himself around all four of their collective legs.

 

“Getitoffgetitoffgetitoffgetitoffgetitoffgetitoffgetitoff!”

 

“GIR!” Yelled a horrified Zim, who rushed forward to grasp the tiny robot by his stubby legs in a futile attempt to get him to let go, but Gir’s grip was strong, and soon Zim was lifted from his feet, flopping about in midair as he tried to pry Gir off of his hovering leaders.

 

They jerked about awkwardly, yelling all the while, before crashing into the side of their ship with a huge “clang” and falling face-first into the mud.

 

Dib couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.

 

 

***

 

 

“I’m _soooooooooooo_ happy!” Gir was saying, smiling as he brought forth a tray covered in gravy, which held an array of multicoloured candy wrappers and a single toy boat.

 

“We’s gonna have Mother’s Day, and go on a picnic, and I’m gonna cut the _head_ off _of_ a chi _cken_!”

 

He plunked the tray in the lap of the nearest Tallest, who happened to be the purple one, sending gravy splattering all over. The Tallest looked down at the tray and then directly at Gir.

 

“I don’t know what a “chicken” is, and I’m already terrified.”

 

Gravy dripped, Dib wriggled against his bonds.

 

His hysterical laughter had given him away, and before he could run, the purple tallest had grabbed him by his hair (His scalp was still hurting, in case anyone was interested), and dragged him back to Zim’s base with them, where a truly maniacal Zim had delighted in duct-taping him to a cheap kitchen chair. Why he had chosen duct tape of all things was anybody’s guess. Dib’s personal guess being that he was just an idiot.

 

“Gir!” Zim gave a nervous sort of laugh and moved the tiny robot away from the Tallest. “Don’t you have _somewhere else_ to be?”

 

“Nope!”

 

Dib swore he could see Zim’s eyelid twitching.

 

“Well, uh, then, why don’t you go get your… ‘ _Mommies-_ ’” he said the word with a certain amount of disgust, “some nice flowers for mother’s day?” He turned to Dib, “That’s what you stink-beasts do for the mother’s day, right? Give them the dead reproductive organs of plants?” Dib merely glared at him, but Zim seemed to take that as a yes.

 

In response, Gir gasped and shrieked “I FORGOT THE FLOWERS!” before somersaulting into his dog costume and racing out the front door.

 

Both Tallest looked thoroughly unimpressed.

 

“You know,” Dib ventured “I know where the flower shop is, maybe if I went with him-“

 

The Red Tallest turned to him and snorted, “Nice try, kid.”

 

Dib shrugged, it had been worth a shot.

 

“Ah, yes!” Zim snapped to attention. “The Dib-child!” He grinned evilly and made his way over to Dib. “What to do with the Dib-child?”

 

“Let him go?” Dib suggested. Again, worth a shot.

 

“Hah! I laugh in your face, slug-brain. No, now that the Almighty Tallest have arrived, I think it is finally time to show them the might and power of Zim by destroying you!”

 

“… How is that different than any other day?”

 

“SILENCE! My Tallest,” he turned to them and bowed low, “this is the perfect opportunity for me to demonstrate my IRKEN might by destroying this human boy! Oh, so many things I could do… Release rabid blorgons, turn him inside out. Oh! Or I could just EXPLODE him!” Zim grinned maniacally. “Humans are very combustible, you know.”

 

The purple tallest gave it some thought.

 

“Not going to lie, I kind of want to see the kid explode.”

 

“What colour do humans bleed?”

 

“I dunno, we should ask. Hey kid, what colour does your species bleed?”

 

“None of your business!” Spluttered an indignant Dib. Not the best comeback, but it was all he had at the moment.

 

“Jeez, humans are sensitive about the weirdest things.”

 

“It’s orange,” Zim said, “they bleed orange.”

 

“What? No we don’t! You’ve been here for _how_ long and you don’t even know what colour we bleed?”  


“ORANGE!”

 

“It’s red, you idiot!”

 

“YOU TELL LIES! It is orange!”

 

“I think I know what colour my own blood is!

 

“Yes, and it is orange!”

 

“Red!”

 

“Orange!”

 

“Red!

 

“ORANGE!”

 

“RED!”

 

“TURQUOISE WITH PURPLE STRIPES!” Yelled a third voice, and they all turned to see Gir burst in the door, a fresh bouquet of… Something in hand.

 

“Sorry I took so long,” he said as he began wriggling out of his dog disguise, “I hads to go gets some monies, ‘cause they wasn’t giving out free samples.” He walked over to his “mommies” and proudly presented them with the bouquet.

 

It certainly wasn’t like any sort of bouquet that Dib had ever seen. Sure, the leaves and the stems were there, but there were no flowers. Instead, each stem was topped with what looked like several strips of bacon, folded into a variety of shapes.

 

“Is this…? Meat?” Tallest Red asked, looking confused.

 

Gir nodded enthusiastically. “Mm-hmm! At first they had flowers on em’, but I got hungry and ate them,” he said, letting out a small burp as if to emphasize the point, “so I made you some new ones!” He smiled happily. Then his face fell for a moment. “I miss piggy.”

 

“Er, yes, Gir, very… Thoughtful. Now, why don’t you put those in some water?”

 

“Okee-dokie!” Gir chirped, ran into the kitchen, returned with a bucket of water, and proceeded to submerge the entire bouquet. Bits of burned bacon floated aimlessly to the surface.

 

“Gir…” Zim glared at his robotic companion, “where exactly did you get the uh, monies, for this? DID YOU TAKE IT OUT OF OUR EMERGENCY STASH?” He looked like he might burst a blood vessel.

 

“’Course not, silly!” Gir replied, he looked at Dib, “I got some from the grumpy boy who lives in your house!”

 

“Grumpy bo- Wait, do you mean Gaz? My _sister_ Gaz?” Dib narrowed his eyes. Why would Gaz just give away money?

 

“Yep! He did a little dance for me once! She said I could have it if I stopped pushin’ the shiny button in the basement, ‘cause she was trying to kill a biiiiiiiiig moose in virtual land and I was makin’ the interwebs stop working.”

 

“You mean dad’s worldwide signal blocker?”

 

Gir shrugged, “Prob’ly”.

 

Ah, now _that_ made some sense.

 

“Worldwide signal blocker?” Tallest Red asked, “As in a device that can shut down every signal _world-wide_ , all at once?”

 

“Yeah,” Dib said, “I don’t really know why dad built that one, I think he might just have been bored.”

 

“I didn’t think humans _had_ that kind of technology,” Red said, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

 

“For the most part, they _don’t_ ,” Zim sneered at him, “but this particular human’s male parental unit creates technology that far outstrips that of the rest of their pathetic species.”

 

“I see, and what other technology has your… ‘Male parental unit’ invented?”

 

“Lots of stuff,” said Dib, feeling a little proud despite himself, “a perpetual energy generator, time machine- that no one is allowed to use, by the way-, nanobots, alternate universe spectacles, security systems, giant metal spider-suits-“

 

“Hmm.”

 

The Tallest shared a look, seemed to come to some sort of an understanding and turned back to Zim and Dib.

 

“Zim,” said Purple, “untie the big-headed boy.”

 

“WHAT?”  


“Untie him, un-tape him, whatever. Let him off the chair.”

 

“But, my Tallest… I don’t understand.”

 

“Of course you don’t,” the red one sighed, “let me make this simple for you, Zim, we barely made it to this back-water planet as it is. We hardly have any technology besides what came with your base, and whatever took Irk is _immense_. We need access to as much upper-level technology as we can, rudimentary as it may be, and this large-headed kid could provide us with access.”

 

“But-“

 

“Zim,” Purple narrowed his eyes, “are you _questioning_ a direct order from your Tallest?”

 

“I-!” Zim glanced at Dib, turned back to his Tallest, bit his lip.

 

“Yes, my Tallest,” he said sulkily.

 

Although he was no longer allowed to explode him, Zim took great pleasure in ripping the duct tape off of Dib with as much force as he could muster. The whole experience made Dib very happy he wasn’t a girl, and therefore wouldn’t have to worry about waxing once he finally hit puberty.

 

The last strip of tape was removed, and a nearly hairless Dib hit the floor, rubbing at his sore arms. “Jerk,” he muttered under his breath.

 

“Stand and address your Tallest, human child,” said the red one. Dib stood, but chose to scowl.

 

“You’re not my Tallest! You’re not my… _Anything_ , and if you think I’m going to help you, you’re nuts! Just a few days ago you were about to let my planet explode!”

 

“I object to that,” the purple one crossed his arms, “we are very clearly taller than you. I mean come on, you’d have to be blind not to see that.”

 

 _That_ was what they took away from it?

 

“Are you even listening?” Dib shouted, “I. Am. _Not_. Helping You!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, we heard you the first time.”

 

“It’s almost cute when they try to stand up to us.”

 

Dib ignored the insult, “That’s pretty tough talk from two guys whose planet just got destroyed!”

 

“Irk isn’t _destroyed_ , human boy,” said Red it’s just… Gone.”

 

“Gone?”

 

“Gone. As in not there any more. Poof! The whole planet just vanished without a trace.” Purple waved his fingers in the air as if to illustrate.

 

“We were lucky to escape when we did,” Red added, “whatever took Irk seems to be tracking the PAKs.”

 

“Wait a minute, so that means-“

 

“Indeed it does! Being on a planet so far away and barely registered in our databases bought us some time, but it won’t be long before whatever it is manages to track down our signals, and earth ends up going the same way Irk did.”

 

“I don’t understand, what actually happened?”

 

“Exactly what part of “poof” didn’t you get?” Asked the purple one.

 

“… The ‘poof’ part.” Dib answered, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Irk wasn’t destroyed, it just… Disappeared. Like it was never there to begin with. So did all of its armies within three star systems, and then every planet with an IRKEN on it did the same. Blorch is gone. Callnowia is gone. Foodcortia disappeared yesterday, too.”

 

Dib thought it best that he didn’t question the names of said planets.

 

“So essentially,” Dib said, “you’re holding _my_ planet hostage if I don’t help you figure out what happened to yours.”

 

The Tallest looked at each other, turned back to Dib and shrugged.

 

“Yeah,” said the red one.

 

“Pretty much,” said the purple one.

 

Before Dib had time to think of a witty response (He knew it was in there _somewhere_ ) Gir climbed up on the couch, squeezed in-between the two Tallests, said, “String-bean mamas? I dun feel so good,” and proceeded to throw up all over the couch, the Tallest’s feet, and the floor.

 

After a moment of shocked silence, Purple let out a disgusted “Eugh!”, Red picked up Gir by his antenna and dropped him onto the floor with a loud “clang!” and Zim made several strained squeaking noises, as one eye twitched sporadically.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m better now!” Gir picked himself up off the floor, “Imma go get a new piggy!” He announced, and with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

 

“I… I-!” Dib had never seen Zim look so unsure of himself. It was honestly quite reassuring to know that he could.

 

“I apologize for my SIR’s inappropriate actions, sirs!” He said, Dib could swear he saw Zim’s knees shaking as he walked up to them, stepping in the mess of chewed-up flower petals and God only knew what else. “But rest assured, I will make certain that he is disciplined!” Zim brought his hand down smack on the side of the tray still in Purple’s lap and caused it to flip up, sending candy wrappers everywhere and splattering Tallest Red with gravy.

 

“Whoops,” Zim gave his Tallest his best innocent smile while both of them glared at him.

 

“Eh heh-heh, it’s a good look for you?” He tried.

 

The red Tallest, wiped the mess away from his eyes, and let out a long, world-weary sigh, like he just _couldn’t be bothered_ anymore. “Whatever, you do that, Zim. Go… Discipline your robot. I am going to take a shower. Where did you put it?”

 

“Shower?” Zim looked confused, “But-“

 

“Yes, Zim, ‘shower’. You know that thing, where you stand under it and water comes out and cleans you off? Where is it?”

 

“I- I don’t have one my Tallest, I’ve been using the cleansing chalk.”

 

“You’ve been here for _how_ long and you’ve only been using the cleansing chalk?”

 

“That explains the smell,” Purple muttered.

 

“Well yes, but-“

 

“Whatever, just give me the… Thingie, the pad thing where you draw and it makes stuff.”

 

Zim reached into his PAK and pulled out what looked like a drawing pad and stylus. “But-“

 

Red snatched it away from him and quickly scribbled something, and there was a series of horrible creaking noises as suddenly, inexplicably, a door appeared beside the TV. There was a huge “boom” and a scream from next door and Dib guessed that the new addition had jutted out straight into the neighbour’s house.

 

“There,” said Red, handing the tablet back to Zim, “now you do.” He got up from the couch and began hovering towards the new door.

 

“But my Tallest, you don’t under-“

 

Red whipped around and glared right at Zim.

 

“I haven’t eaten in a whole day, my home planet may be _gone_ , I’ve got no snacks, and I’m covered in gravy and _robot vomit_. Let me make this very clear, Zim, _I am taking that shower_.”

 

Dib thought that if he weren’t hovering he would have stomped off.

 

There was the slam of the door, a few moments of silence, the sound of running water, and then a horrible, agonizing scream, and Red burst back out, apparently either having intended to shower in his clothes, or having had the presence of mind to put them back on before he did so.

 

“What is _wrong_ with your _water_!?”

 

*** 

 

Red scowled at his cohorts as Purple did his best to rub paste into the back of his co-Tallest’s head.

 

“I _did_ try to warn you,” said Zim, with maybe just a hint of smugness.

 

“So, what you’re telling me is that humans have, for some reason, contaminated their _own_ water to the point at which other species can’t even live in it And some of them can’t even drink it?”

 

“That’s stupid,” Purple squeezed out another glob of paste, “Humans are stupid. Your species is stupid, did you know that?” He turned to Dib, “What kind of species is stupid enough to wreck their own planet?”

 

“Like you’re one to talk, you guys completely obliterate planets on a weekly basis!”

 

“Yeah, but they’re not _our_ planet.”

 

Technically, he couldn’t argue with that one.

 

“The burning stopped yet, Red?” the purple on asked, closing one eye and gazing down into the glue bottle.

 

“Mostly, thanks Purple.”

 

Dib looked first at one, then at the other.

 

“Wait, your names are _actually_ ‘Red’ and ‘Purple’?”  


“That’s _Tallest_ Red and Purple to you, kid,” Red glared at him.

 

“What are you trying to say, that there’s something _wrong_ with our names? Huh? HUH?” added Purple, for good measure.

 

“Well, no,” Dib said, “it’s just, I mean, it’s not very creative, is it? You’re just named after your eye colours.”

 

“Oh, like you humans do so much better? You’ve got stupid names like “Richard” or “Andy”. Look at you, your name is “Dib” Do you even know what a “dib” is? It’s probably not even a name!” Purple frowned at him, one antenna raised.

 

“Richard and Andy aren’t stupid names! And that’s easy, a “dib” is- Is! Is…” He paused, but found himself drawing a complete blank. “You know what? I don’t _what_ a “dib” is.”

 

“I rest my case,” said a very smug Tallest Purple.

 

This was going to be one long partnership.

 

*** 

 

Dib yawned hugely and rubbed at his eyes, vision blurry. What time was it? Oh, who _cared_. He was too exhausted to even think about it at this point.

 

After much arguing (On Dib’s part) threatening (From the Tallest) general annoyance (Eagerly supplied by Zim) and completely nonsensical ranting and raving (Gir, of course), the Tallest had pulled Dib aside under the pretense of ‘examining a human specimen without interference’ and told him that if he supplied them with the technology that they wanted, there was a chance a very _slight_ chance, mind you, that they would reassign Zim to another little-known planet and erase earth from their star charts.

 

Well, he couldn’t resist an offer like that, now could he?

 

Dib had reluctantly agreed, and even promised Red and Purple that he wouldn’t bring up the matter of Zim’s exile again.

 

“We don’t want him getting all mopey while we’re here to put up with it.”

 

“That, and much as I hate to say it, we need every ally we can get our claws on.”

 

“Besides, it’s not like he’ll even believe you, anyway. He’s pretty reliably stupid like that.”

 

Dib suddenly realized that the front door would open a lot more easily if he actually turned the knob instead of just walking into it.

 

Well, he wasn’t a pork rind. The security system must be off.

 

Dib trudged upstairs, head heavy (But not because it was big!) and feet tired. Flinging open the door of his room, he made his way over to his bed and collapsed, not even bothering to change into his pajamas.

 

Finally, the sweet release of sl-

 

“BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” went his insistent alarm, “Time to get up, Dib Membrane! Remember, those who wish to succeed in life are those who are willing to work for it, and that means getting out of bed at the appropriate time!” In his father’s voice, of course.

 

Groaning, Dib rolled out of bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen

 

This was going to be another very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References, etc:
> 
> According to Word of God (aka, Jhonen Vasquez if he isn’t messing with us), it isn’t the water itself that burns Zim, but the pollutants in it, so it stands to reason that Red wouldn’t know Earth’s water would hurt until he had touched it. He probably just zones out whenever Zim starts rambling. Can you blame him?
> 
> The “SquishSquatch” comes from the comics.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> According to Mr. Vasquez, Dib is around eleven and Gaz around nine.
> 
> I have no idea if Gir understands the concept of a male parent being called “father” or not, but having him refer to the Tallest as “Mommies” was just funnier to me.
> 
> “Richard and Andy” are of course, shout-outs to Zim and Dib’s voice actors, Richard Horvitz and Andy Berman, who voice Zim and Dib, respectively
> 
> Apparently “dib” is a fishing term meaning “to fish by letting the bait bop and dip lightly”. So yes, Dib does indeed mean something.
> 
> Thank you so much to the wonderful knock.again.please (aka knock.please) from Fanfiction.net for beta-ing this chapter! If you like long, dramatic epics, then you should check out her story!
> 
> Please, please, if you can, leave a review! Even if it’s short, I don’t mind! I practically feed off of them at this point.
> 
> Thanks!  
> \- Mags


	4. In Which We Learn the Fate of Invader Skoodge, and a Toilet Plunger Is Put To Good Use

"Dib…"

Dib is not in right now, please leave a message…

"Dib…"

Dib is floating in the endless realms of exhaustion and fatigue right now, Dib cannot answer you…

"Dib! Wake up!"

No, Dib stay asleep, Dib stay asleep forever, just sleep and sleep and sleep…

"DIB!"

Dib sat bolt upright, quiz firmly glued to his face by dried saliva. What? Where was he? What was going on? Why was there a paper stuck to his face?

He ripped the paper off of himself to reveal a very angry-looking Miss Bitters (then again, she always looked like she had just bitten into a lemon, so who could tell?) her face too close to his, staring down at him with one eyebrow raised.

"Am I _boring_ you, Dib?" She asked.

"N-no!" Dib stammered, wiping his face.

From several desks down, Zim leaned outward and sneered at him. The tiny alien had begrudgingly accepted his Tallest's orders not to destroy Dib, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy making him as miserable as humanly (IRKENly?) possible, though.

"Oh really, _Dib_?" He said, "Because it looked to _me_ like you were _sleeping_."

Dib was going to strangle him.

"How very _rude_ of you, Dib, disrespecting a teacher like that. Miss Bitters already works long, tireless hours just to keep us little worm-babies educated, the _least_ you could do is stay awake."

Miss Bitters scowled, "Nobody likes a kiss-up, Zim!" she shouted, before swooping back to her desk like an overgrown bat.

Dib glared at Zim, Zim took the opportunity to glare right back. Then he grinned evilly and mouthed something.

"What?" Dib mouthed back.

Zim leaned out and mouthed something again.

Dib shrugged and looked at him helplessly.

Sighing, Zim grabbed a blank sheet of paper, scribbled furiously for a few seconds, then folded it into a paper airplane and launched it at Dib.

Unfolding the airplane, Dib looked down and saw that Zim had written him a note. All in capital letters, of course.

"IF YOU THINK FOR **ONE SECOND** THAT AS SOON AS THIS IS OVER I WON'T DESTROY YOUR SPECIES, YOU ARE DEAD WRONG! (GET IT? _DEAD_ WRONG? 'CUZ YOU'LL BE DEAD? PRETTY GOOD, HUH?)

SINCERELY,

\- YOUR FUTURE LORD AND MASTER, ZIM!

Not having anything to write on, Dib had to settle for his next best comeback, which was to just stick his tongue out at Zim, who looked more confused than anything else. Hmm. Maybe that meant something else on Irk.

Don't fall asleep, don't fall asleep.

Dib glanced in Zim's direction again. Apparently IRKENs didn't have to sleep. Lucky jerk.

Zim put a hand to his mouth and yawned hugely.

Alright, now he was just rubbing it in. Double jerk.

* * *

 

Having caught up on some of his lost sleep during lunch (although now he was incredibly hungry), Dib felt a little better as he stomped down the sidewalk towards what he hoped was Zim's base.

In truth, he wasn't exactly certain that either of them were going in the right direction. The minute they had stepped outside of the school, both of them had glared at each other, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. They had locked eyes as they walked and hadn't looked away since. Zim had already walked into a lamppost twice.

They continued to glower at each other as they walked sideways, faces set into determined frowns. Dib was beginning to feel a little silly, but by now their scowling seemed to have morphed into a full-blown staring contest, and there was absolutely no way that Dib was going to let Zim win. Small victories, and all that.

After nearly decapitating himself by almost walking into a construction beam, stepping in something that looked like mud, but alas, smelled a heck of a lot worse than mud, and Zim having to shoo away an angry cat whose tail he had stepped on, both boys arrived at Zim's front door, finally breaking their death-glares.

Dib pushed ahead of Zim, put his hand on the handle and twisted the knob. As far as he could tell, Zim was kind of like an annoying little dog. You always had to show dominance, let them know who was really in charge.

"Finally!" shouted a voice, and Dib stepped back in shock wondering if he had been shot. Ow! His forehead really hurt! What was _that_? Whatever it was, it was definitely going to leave a bruise. Looking down, he saw an empty pop can lying at his feet. He looked up and spotted Tallest Purple, lounging on the couch, tossing an identical can up into the air and catching it with surprising ease for someone who had only two fingers.

"What was that for?" Dib said, rubbing his sore head.

"I thought Zim would be the one opening the door," said Purple by way of explanation.

Tallest Purple was deceptively strong for a creature with literal sticks for arms. Then again, if his only exercise was throwing things at people, Dib supposed that he would have gotten pretty good at it too.

Zim snickered into his hands, removed his contacts, and gave the Tallest a huge wink. "Of _course_ you thought it was me! It's not like you were looking for an excuse to throw things at the child's massive head!"

"Either one works for me," Red muttered from somewhere on the other side of the couch.

"What took you so long?" Tallest Purple asked, frowning at Zim and Dib.

"We were… at school?" Dib tried, "It's about six hours long."

"Well then, that's _too_ long! You left us without anything to eat! We're hungry!"

Red leaned out from behind his counterpart. "We are _starving_!" Go make us some dinner!"

"Dinner?" Dib rubbed his stinging head, "it's only three-fifteen!"

"Dinner, second lunch, whatever. We're hungry! We haven't eaten for an entire _hour_! That's an eternity!"

"You barely left us enough for breakfast, much less lunch." Red pointed at Zim, who froze momentarily and than snapped into a salute. "Yes, sir! Tallest, sir! Food, sir!" and he scampered off into the kitchen, quickly disappearing down the trashcan.

Dib bent to pick up the spent soda can, looking sad and broken on the floor. "You really had to wait for us to get back for that? Couldn't you have just… you know, made it yourselves?"

"Make it ourselves?" Purple echoed blankly. He looked at Red, "Do you even remember how to do that anymore?"

Red paused to think, "I think you mix stuff together, and then you put it in a hot thing, and somehow it comes out delicious."

"That doesn't sound right."

Flippin' _unbelievable_. Had these idiots really had an army of servants at their beck and call for so long that they had actually forgotten what cooking was? Was that even possible? Were they messing with him? They _had_ to be messing with him.

"You," Tallest Red amazed Dib by somehow managing to snap using only two fingers, "go help him out. Make sure he doesn't burn the house down."

"Me? But-"

"Many hands means more donuts, kid. Get a move on!"

"And I'm sure we don't have to remind you that it is in your _best interests_ to keep us satisfied," Purple gave Dib a knowing look.

"And not _one word_ about Zim's "mission". Red said pointedly. "Not that he would probably believe you, but just in case, we don't want to put up with him getting all mopey while we're here."

Smile and nod, Dib. Smile and nod.

If these space-mantises thought that he for one second believed them when they said that they would spare Earth, then they had to be even dumber than Zim. What was the saying? "Tis' better to be thought a fool"? Something like that.

So he would play the fool. Get them their stupid snacks, play their stupid games. Stick around until he got the one thing he would need to keep the bugs from going back on their word:

 _Leverage_.

He didn't know what it would possibly be, or what form it could possibly take, but he knew that he was going to get it. Be sneaky, be devious. Let them think he was as dumb as they thought the rest of humanity was.

Dib grit his teeth (A little harder than necessary), and walked in the kitchen. Taking orders was not something he did well, especially when said orders were coming from a pair of smug, green stick insects with a superiority complex, but he would do it if that meant saving the-

_Ow!_

Why was the _back_ of his head hurting now?

He turned around, and there was Tallest Purple again, leaning around the corner and smiling smugly.

"Hah! Told you I could make the shot!"

"Alright, alright, I owe you five monies."

Purple grinned in Red's direction and turned back to Dib.

"That time I _was_ aiming for you."

* * *

 

The Tallest were not happy.

They were very not happy.

They were most _un_ happy, as it was now six-o-clock and none of them had had a bite to eat yet because Dib had clogged the toilet.

Alright, he'd gotten _stuck_ in the toilet.

More specifically, his head had gotten stuck.

He'd clogged the toilet with his head, trying to flush himself down the way Zim did.

It had not been a pleasant experience.

Between the soda cans to the skull, Zim gleefully kicking him in the legs, and one of the Tallest actually using a plunger in an attempt to get him out because the house had shut down all cooking operations until the problem was fixed, Dib was sore all over and was also decidedly unhappy.

The only one aside from Gir who seemed to be in a good mood was Zim, delighted by Dib's misfortune.

" _My head's not big_!" Zim shrieked in a voice that was clearly supposed to be Dib, but sounded nothing like him.

" _I am a normal human child!"_ He gasped between fits of laughter, _"With a normal-sized head!"_ With that he pitched backwards, grasping at his stomach and howling with laughter.

"You've got to admit, it's pretty conclusive evidence," said Tallest Red, smirking at Dib as he took another five donuts.

Dib grit his teeth again. By the time this was all over and done with he would have ground the lot of them into tiny stumps.

"I wouldn't have gotten stuck if my head wasn't all swollen up!" Dib said, giving Purple a very pointed look.

Purple merely waved a hand "Excuses, excuses. Face it, kid, your head is _enormous_."

Dib merely sat back and scowled, arms crossed, giving each IRKEN in turn the dirtiest looks he possibly could. None of them noticed, of course. Then again, for beings with such a huge empire at their command, even the Tallest seemed to be pretty oblivious. When Tallest Purple had finally got sick of waiting and pulled him from the toilet, coughing and spluttering and half-blind, Dib had wandered into the living room in a daze to find the other Tallest resting his chin on the arm-rest of the couch with his eyes closed as though he'd had no idea that anything had even been going on.

Ignoring Dib's impressive pout, Tallest Purple turned to Zim, "Zim, pass the sugar-dip," he extended a demanding hand.

"Uhhh…" Zim looked up from a conspicuously empty bowl, mouth covered in glittery pink power.

" _Zim…"_ Tallest Purple groaned.

"But I need it!" Zim clutched the bowl against his tiny chest. He put a hand to the side of his mouth conspiratorially and whispered, "You probably didn't notice, thanks to my incredible acting skills, but I haven't exactly been at the top of my proverbial game today. I feel so… slow, and sluggish, like a slow, sluggish _thing_. I need the extra energy!" He hugged the bowl to his chest again.

Dib ignored him and picked at his "dinner", something that he might have called pizza had it not been green. He didn't trust it.

Thankfully, he was saved from having to make the decision as to whether or not to eat it by Gir jumping onto the table and shoving it whole down his throat.

"Charming," said Tallest Purple dryly, before picking up a bag of chips and emptying the entire thing into his mouth.

Pot to kettle, bug-boy.

"So…" he said, doing his best to ignore the strange goings-on and just focus on what needed to be done, "what's the plan?"

Four sets of eyes turned to look at him.

"Plan?" Tallest Red inquired, mouth full of some sort of unidentifiable meat that Dib didn't even want to look at much less touch.

"You know," Dib raised an eyebrow, " _plan_ , what we're doing next."

"Finiffing dinner, obviuffly," Tallest Purple stuffed an entire plate of nachos into his mouth, swallowed, and then spat the empty plate into his hand. Dib had no idea whether to be repulsed or impressed.

"I _mean_ with the whole Planets-disappearing-thing," Dib continued, trying very hard not to roll his eyes. "What's our plan of action? What are we, you know, _doing_ about it?"

"You always such a wet blanket?" Tallest Red frowned and flicked a crumb in Dib's general direction. Dib ignored it.

"If the… thing, is tracking IRKEN technology, shouldn't we get going? It's only a matter of time before it finds you."

"There's still time…"

Dib threw his hands into the air in frustration. "Come on! It's like you don't even care! How can you not-!" Realization hit him like a speeding bus. "This is because you don't have any ideas, isn't it?"

"Nada," said Tallest Purple, dunking a donut into something deep blue and syrupy.

"Nothing," said Tallest Red, eyeing said blue syrup with a certain amount of distaste.

"There's no one left to ask, no records, nothing. We don't even know where it started." Purple popped the donut into his open mouth.

"We can't even figure out what kind of technology was used or where the signal first came from. It's either too new or too old to show up on our sensors."

"And almost all archived data disappeared along with Irk."

"In that case, might Zim make a suggestion?"

Four pairs of eyes turned towards the tiny alien as he leaned back in his chair, head tilted forward, half in shadow, hands tented in front of him. Did he practice these things in the mirror or something? Even the Tallest seemed to think it was a bit much.

Without waiting for confirmation, Zim ploughed ahead.

"When you sent me to conquer this pathetic little planet, my Tallest, I found amongst my things an old-fashioned Galactic Data Organizer, instead of the newer model. Likely an oversight on the part of the drone who put together my Invader Package."

Here, Red and Purple gave each other a very visual, knowing glance.

"Anyway, my point is that is still contains the old-fashioned data drive. If we could upgrade the machine and combine the drive with the information on your IRKPad," He glanced at Tallest Purple, "then we might be able to at least track the anomaly." He ginned proudly.

Purple paused for a moment then withdrew what looked like a tablet from his Pak.

"For all of those who are of an _inferior species_ ," Zim gave Dib a very pointed look, who merely rolled his eyes. "This little device here is one of the most information-packed pieces of technology in the known universe, updated second by second with all new information coming into the empire, and given only to the Tallest."

"It also has games," Tallest Purple added helpfully.

"It should have every bit of raw data collected right up until Irk went missing. So, if we combine this with my unfortunately outdated Galactic Data Organizer. We _should_ have a fighting chance of tracking and tracing the anomaly. Combine it with the right power source, which I am certain that this thing," he shot another look at Dib, who again chose to ignore him, "could probably acquire, and we should be good to go."

Red looked at Zim. Zim looked at Red. Purple looked at Zim. Zim looked At Purple. Red looked at Purple. Purple looked at Red. Dib blinked and wondered if he should start looking at someone too, just to ease the awkwardness.

"That…" Tallest Red considered the proposal, "is surprisingly not a terrible idea."

Zim sat back and allowed himself a self-satisfied grin. "With Tallest Red's expertise in engineering, integration should be easy."

"Irk knows I've had to repair the thing enough times," Red narrowed his eyes at Purple.

Purple crossed his arms and frowned right back at Red. "It's not my fault I dropped it, that drone ran right into me!"

"You _dropped_ it twice, you _threw it at the wall_ at least seven times because you lost at Solitaire."

"The game was cheating," Purple muttered, "not fair."

'Then it is settled!" Zim pushed his chair out from the table with a loud, obnoxious 'screeeeeeech' that made Dib want to pull his own eardrums out with a corkscrew. "Come, to the GDO Chamber!"

And so Dib followed Zim and the Tallest through the fridge ("Maybe we should _not_ use the toilet this time,") down several flights of stairs, whooshing through an elevator that moved so quickly Dib was certain that he had been floating, and across a rickety metal bridge before stopping before an enormous, circular metal door. Dib was going to need a map of this place, one wrong turn and it looked like you would be lost forever.

"Behold!" Zim cried as he began keying numbers into a keypad. He stepped aside as the metal door swung forth with a creek and a hiss to reveal the dark silhouette of a small shape, lying on the floor.

"Ehh?" Zim raised an antenna and squinted one eye, "That's strange, I could have sworn it used to be bigger. Like, a lot bigger."

And then the small shape moved.

Everyone, Gir included, jumped backwards with a yelp of surprise.

The shaped rolled to the left, righted itself, and then, inexplicably, it spoke:

"Hey, Zim!"

Dib paused, why did that voice sound so familiar? He watched as the shape slowly walked towards them, and was revealed to be a very haggard and dusty-looking Invader Skoodge.

"Skoodge!?" Even Zim seemed surprised. "What are _you_ doing in my GDO-holding chamber?"

"Don't you remember?" Skoodge did his best to dust himself off, but merely sent a cloud of debris into the air that made everyone want to sneeze, "You sent me to figure out what the rattling in the vents was! Anyway, I was crawling through sector thirty-six and I fell right in here! Unfortunately, the grate sealed behind me, so I couldn't get back out. I was wondering when you were going to find me! What took you so long, sir?"

Zim, to his credit, actually looked slightly uncomfortable, which was more concern than he usually showed, and Dib would bet his entire collection of _Mysterious Mysteries_ on DVD that the reason Zim hadn't gone looking for Skoodge is because he had forgotten that he was there at all.

"Oh great, _another_ one," Tallest Red muttered bitterly,

"And he's still so… _ugly_." Tallest Purple made a face. "How is that even possible?"

Dib looked first to the Tallest, then to Skoodge, and finally to Zim. How one determined what "ugly" looked like to a species of beings who all looked the same was a mystery to him.

If Skoodge heard the insult, he certainly didn't show it. He looked up at the Tallest, eyes wide as saucers and then threw himself onto the ground in an overdramatic bow.

"My Tallest!" He cried, snapping upwards into a salute, "Forgive me, I didn't see you there at first!"

How someone could possibly miss a pair of giant, green praying mantises looming over them like they wanted to snap you up and eat your head, Dib had no idea.

"I apologize for my oversight," Skoodge continued, "I fear that living in this chamber for the last few months has started to affect my mental stability, sometimes it becomes so hard to simply process thoughts. I shall perform a maintenance scan as soon as we get back to the surface."

"Good for you," said Tallest Red in the most dismissive tone of voice Dib had ever, or likely would ever, hear in his life, "Now, where's the Galactic Data Organizer? Cough it up soldier!"

Skoodge looked around for a moment and then, beaming, pulled a shiny grey rectangle covered in intricate little lines from his pocket.

Red blinked at him. "Alright, that's the data center, but where's the rest of it?"

"Well, you see, sir," Skoodge gave his fat little belly a pat, "I tried my best to hold out, but by the second month, my survival training kicked in, and I was forced to scavenge for food. Tastes a lot better than what was on Blorch, though."

Tallest Red's jaw dropped, and one eye began twitching sporadically.

"You _ate_ solid metal?"

"And the battery acid!"

If the Tallest were mantises, then Skoodge had to be a cockroach. Nothing else could possibly survive the amount of abuse he had been through and not only live to tell the tale, but smile about it.

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes later, and some incredibly repetitive explanations of Irk going "poof" for Skoodge's benefit, four IRKENs, a human, and one perpetually-malfunctioning robot sat around the kitchen table, all staring down at one sad-looking rectangle of grey metal.

"So… now what do we do?" Dib asked, as Skoodge looked from on helplessly.

Tallest Red picked up the data center and examined it, turning it over and over in his long, spindly hands.

"The center is intact," he said, closing one eye and squinting closely at the device with another, "it's just the device itself that's missing. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, but with Irk gone, I don't know where we're going to get the parts needed to rebuild the thing."

"My dad-" Dib began.

"Doesn't have half the resources necessary because he's never been off earth." Tallest Red finished for him. "You can take what you can from him, but for the rest of the pieces, it looks like we're going to have to find them ourselves, and there are a _lot_ of pieces missing."

"But it is possible?"

"Barely."

Dib glanced at Tallest Purple, who had been uncharacteristically quiet through the whole exchange. In fact, he seemed to be completely disinterested, resting his chin in one hand as leaned forward with one elbow on the table.

"- have to go off-world to find the rest of them, might be something we can use here on earth, though."

Purple let out a vast yawn.

"- may have been visited by advanced races in the past, my Tallest, maybe they left something behind…"

Purple moved his head from his hand and blinked, languid and slowly, lids never making it higher than mid-eye.

Uh, was he ok? He almost looked like he was going to-

Bang!

Purple's head hit the table, face-first.

"My… Tallest?" Zim reached out a hesitant hand, as though uncertain of what to do. After what surely must have been a riveting internal debate, he gave Tallest Purple a poke with one finger.

"Don' _touch_ me!" The Tallest slurred, swatting Zim's hand away, before bolting upright with an alarmed expression. He looked down at the table and then put a hand to his forehead like he just couldn't believe it.

"Did I just… faint?"

"Like a smeet witnessing his first garsplobasnatch," said Zim solemnly, and Dib decided that he probably didn't want to know what a "garsplobasnatch" was.

Purple looked to Red, clearly in some sort of distress.

"Red, quick! Is my Pak still attached? Are all the pieces still there?"

Red gave Purple a quick once-over, "It looks alright to me."

Purple twisted his head in a futile attempt to look directly behind himself. "What in the blarg just happened?"

"Are you alright, my Tallest?" Asked a worried Skoodge, but no one paid him any attention.

"One crisis after another," said Tallest Red, bending forward to get a better look at Purple's Pak, "I'm getting real tired of this."

Wait a minute, tired?

Dib thought for a moment. The yawning, the sluggishness, the zonking out on the couch…

"Are you sure you didn't just fall asleep?"

All four of them looked at him as though he had sprouted an extra head. Actually, wait, given the vastness of space that was probably perfectly normal somewhere. As though he had just suggested that donuts tasted terrible, that was it.

" _Sleep_?"

Zim pursed his mouth and narrowed his eyes. "I don't know if you know this, _Dib_ , but IRKENs don't sleep!

"And why's that?" Dib crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"IRKENs get our energy from our Paks, meat-boy."

"And where do the Paks get it from?"

"Food, mostly," Tallest Red demonstrated by picking up a squiggly something coated in cheese and tossing it into his mouth, "but all Paks are partially interlinked, with both each other and the incredible network of IRKEN technology, all the way from here to the next galaxy, allowing for energy to-! Oh."

All four IRKENs looked temporarily dumbstruck.

Dib tried not very hard to conceal a smug grin. "So, what you're saying is that without the network of IRKEN technology saturating the galaxy, you guys can't tap into the energy reserve, therefore…" He trailed off leaving one of them to finish for themselves.

"You all gots to go sleepy-byes!" cried Gir, throwing his hands in the air.

" _Sleep,"_ Zim said bitterly, spitting out the word like it tasted bad, "how humiliating, IRKENs reduced to the feeble, lowly, energy-saving tactics of inferior races."

What a drama king.

"Sleep," Tallest Purple agreed angrily. And then he let out a high-pitched trill that made Zim gape, Gir gasp, Skoodge squeak, and Red smack Purple upside the back of the head yelling, " _Language!_ There is a human larva present!"

* * *

 

Ten minutes later, Tallest Red had once more used "the thingie that done make stuff"- complete with Tallest Purple's moan of utter despair- in order to add another story to Zim's house and the new attachment had shot up just under the roof, making a horrible racket and yet somehow causing no suspicion on the part of the neighbours.

It was then that Dib received the call.

"Where. _Are_. They?"

He didn't need more than those three words to know that it was Gaz.

"Hello to you too, Gaz," he said bitterly.

"Don't play games with me Dib, _where are they_?"

"Where are _what_?"

"Don't play dumb with me, I know you've got my batteries!"

Batteries?

"Why would I have your batteries?

"I don't know, because you're _Dib_. Check your backpack!"

"Why?"

"Because the only thing in _my_ bag, besides my math textbook, is a pair of stupid night-vision goggles! Now go and check!"

Sighing, Dib made his way to the front door where he had shrugged his bag off when he had first come in.

"I am five minutes away from beating level fifty!" Gaz was saying, "I swear, if you make me lose this-!"

Dib reached into his backpack, moved aside a few notebooks and closed his hands around several small, metal cylinders. He pulled them out, and unclenched his hand to reveal a small pile of double-A batteries.

Packing that morning for school, he must have accidentally put his books in Gaz's bag instead, whoops.

"Are they there, Dib?" Asked an angry Gaz, who clearly already knew the answer to her question.

Dib sighed loudly, it was best to just get it over with, "Yes."

There was a moment of silence.

"Gaz?"

Suddenly the front door practically flew off of its hinges to reveal Gaz, GameSlave in hand, hands placed determinedly on her hips.

"Move, move, _move_ ," she snarled at Gir who had trotted up to the open door to greet their newest guest.

Dib hung up the phone. He wasn't even going to bother questioning how she had gotten there so fast. Never underestimate the motivating power of videogames on Gaz.

There was one thing he wanted to know, however:

"How did you know I was at Zim's house?"

Gaz reached into the bag, pulled out the batteries, and swapped them out with the old ones so quickly that her hands became a white blur.

"Where else were you going to be? It's not like you have any friends."

First of all, _ouch_ , second of all-

"Don't you want to know why there are a bunch of aliens here? Er, more aliens than normal?"

"Not particularly," Gaz turned to leave, "come _on_ Dib, we've only got a few minutes before-"

"Seriously? You're not even curious as to why there's a pair of tyrannical alien overlords in skirts?"

The Tallest looked at each other, evidently trying to figure whether or not they should take offence at that particular comment.

" _No,_ " said Gaz harshly, "Hurry up, Dib! If we run we might be able to-,"

"Really, Gaz? You really don't care that there are a bunch of aliens from millions, if not billions of miles way are sitting _right here_ in _front of you_?"

"No, Dib! But I do care about getting home before-!"

A shrill beeping sound cut through the air like a sword through a piece of tissue paper. Gaz looked at her watch, "Aw, crud!" she said, and pressed a button on said watch, silencing it. "Nice going, Dib."

"Me?" Asked Dib, bewildered. "What did _I_ do?"

"You made us late," Gaz turned to glare at her brother, "the house shields will be up by now, there's no way we're getting back in until morning."

Whoops. Dib tried desperately to think of something to say that wouldn't make him sound stupid.

"Without us in it?"

"Obviously, _Dib,_ " Gaz stared daggers at her big brother.

"But… can't he just turn it off?"

"He _could_ , but he's got that meeting with the ambassador of President-land tonight, _remember, Dib?_ "

He hadn't remembered, actually.

"Now we're stuck here, great."

Gaz sighed heavily and looked from Dib, to Skoodge, to Zim and Gir, and finally to the Tallest.

"Alright, I know you idiots, and you, but who in the heck are you two?"

"They're Zim's leaders!" Dib said, eager to be in the center of things.

"Zim's leaders," Purple echoed, "The most powerful empire in the galaxy, nearly one thousand planets under our rule, thousands more destroyed, and "Zim's leaders" is how he introduces us."

" I kinda like em'." Gaz looked the Tallest over with a critical eye; "They look a little like the final boss from _Bug Smasher Six_ , but with less eyes."

Dib gulped. Call him crazy, (Which many people did) but it probably wasn't good that the giant, insectoid aliens knew that humans had not one, but at least six games with the words "Bug Smasher" as the title.

"Oh yeah?" Tallest Red asked, "And what's _Bug Smasher Six_?"

Gaz gaped at him for a moment, "Only one of the best video game series to ever exist on the planet earth."

Dib couldn't believe it, he watched, dumbfounded, at his sister chatting with the Tallest like she had just met them at a videogame convention. Or… wherever it was she went. The only conventions he had ever been to were for alien enthusiasts, like himself.

"-Ok, so you're this exterminator, right?" Gaz was saying. She was talking in an uncharacteristically animated manner; in the way only video games could inspire her to do. "But then you find out that you're allergic to the chemical you've been using to kill the bugs and stuff. Your life is ruined, down the drain. But then, you discover that that same chemical after a while actually starts mutating the bugs, making them giant, and angry and super-intelligent, so now you're on a journey to discover how to destroy all the bugs for good. It's wicked cool, and the boss battles are always _epic_."

Dib and Zim made quiet, confused eye contact before shrugging and looking away. It wasn't like this night could get any weirder.

"- It's all in the thumbs, you know? Once you got that down, the combos come super easy."

"All in the thumbs, huh?" Tallest Purple wiggled his fingers surreptitiously.

Gaz blinked at him, and froze momentarily. She had a look on her face that Dib had never, in all his years of living with her, seen before. Her eyebrows were drawn upward, mouth slightly slack, eyes wide.

It was a look of outright, genuine, _pity_.

"No thumbs?" She said, her voice soft. She looked from one to the other like she just couldn't believe it. "Then… you _never_ get to play videogames?"

"Not really," said Tallest Red.

"But we get to blow up planets in real life, so, you know, silver lining and all that," said Purple.

"Man, that's a tough life."

Then Gaz straightened up, remembered who she was and went right back to scowling, "Heh, less competition for me, then."

Ok, never mind, it had gotten weirder.

"You," Gaz turned suddenly to Skoodge, "go get me some pillows."

"-What?"

"Pillows, _now_. I'm getting tired, and there's no way I'm sleeping out on the lawn."

"Gaz, you can't be serious!" Dib exclaimed, "We'd be sleeping in the same house as our en-!" He quickly cut himself off. If his plan was to work, the IRKENs could have no idea that he still considered them to be enemies.

Gaz raised an eyebrow, "So?"

" _So!?"_

"Everyone needs to sleep, Dib, unless of course, you want to stay in the backyard tonight. The forecast is calling for rain, by the way."

Gaz turned away from Dib to glare at Gir, "You! Get me a blanket!"

Zim looked like he might explode. "Impossible! Zim will not allow a pair of filthy humans to deface his beautiful base with their _filthy… SLEEP!"_

Why couldn't he ever talk like a normal person? For a while Dib had assumed that all IRKENs put emphasis on the wrong syllables, but he was beginning to suspect that it was just a Zim thing.

"Er, Zim," Skoodge began, "I don't think their sleeping has anything to do with their filthyne-"

" _FILTHY!_ "

Dib was beginning to wonder if Zim actually had any idea what that word meant. Or what any words meant, for that matter.

"Well that's fine, because I wouldn't want to stay in your evil alien base, anyway!" Dib retorted.

"Good! You don't deserve the majesty of Zim's beautiful base!"

"Beautiful? You're joking! It looks more like-!"

"Dib, cut it out! I'm not sleeping on the lawn!"

"Well, it's not like you have any other option, _hu_ man! Hah! How do you like your precious _rain_ , now? Hmm?"

"One more word, Zim, and I'm going to make you wish you'd never been born!"

"IRKENs aren't _born,_ Gaz-Human, they're hatched! Like any civilized species!"

"I said _one_ more word, Zim, and that was about ten! You're gonna get it!"

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try! Come on, Gaz-human! You won't even know what hit you!"

"Hey, don't threaten my sister!"

"Shut up, _Dib_ , I don't need your help!"

"Oh for the love of-" Purple cut himself off just as Red shot him a dangerous look, "How's this?" He shouted over the squabbling, "Everyone can stay if they just SHUT. UP!"

They all went silent, and five pairs of eyes turned to look at the Tallest.

"I don't know how much more I can take," Purple sighed, "so everyone just go to sleep where I can't hear you whine anymore."

Gaz smiled triumphantly, despite Zim's small, sputtered protests, and had already rushed up to the newly created story to pick out a bedroom. Dib had no doubt in his mind it would be one of the largest.

* * *

 

Gaz had not been happy to discover that Gir's idea of a blanket was a bunch of extra-long strips of bacon, woven together in the same manner as one might weave a basket- Where was he getting all of this bacon from, anyway?- But Skoodge had scampered away and come back with a multitude of fuzzy blankets that Dib suspected had been stolen directly off of some poor sap's clothesline. He hoped that they were clean, if nothing else.

Zim had sulked the entire time. His only moment of joy came from consigning Dib to the smallest, most malformed of the new rooms, a joy that proved fleeting when he discovered that Dib was too tired to care.

"There's a genetic lock on each of the doors," Tallest Red had said, smirking down at Dib, "it should kick in approximately when we hit our REM cycles."

"You know, in case anyone gets the bright idea to try to rocket us into space in our sleep."

He hadn't been thinking that, but darn! He really wished that he had.

"I actually didn't-"

"Shut up! You did."

Alright then, when in doubt just rewrite reality, apparently.

So the Tallest weren't quite as dumb as Zim. Just as he didn't trust them, they didn't trust him, either. This was going to make getting the leverage he needed very tricky indeed, but Dib had never backed down from a challenge before and he certainly had no intention of starting now.

Zim wandered by him, grumbling and stomping his tiny feet like a six-year-old who hadn't been given the cookie he was promised.

"Come on Zim," Dib said, as Zim stomped past him, each footfall so heavy that the ground beneath them practically shook, "there are worse things than having to sleep, you know."

Grumble, grumble, STOMP.

"Just… think of it like a sleep-over or something."

"Sleeeeeeeeeep-over?" Zim squinted an eye and cocked one antenna, the little black appendage jumping to attention like a soldier.

"It's an Earth thing," Dib offered, "kids do it. You know, they invite their best friends over to sleep at their house for night."

Sleep-over.

Best friends.

Tallest.

Tallest sleeping at Zim's house.

A slow, expansive smile slithered across his face, as Zim's mad little brain (and he did mean _little_ ) put two and two together. Not the usual angry, "I am going to destroy everything you love and then feed it to Gir" smile, no, this one was full of pure and utter glee, and somehow, that made things much, much worse. Dib was regretting this already.

The sleep-over discussion had certainly brightened Zim's mood. He seemed full of a boundless energy that Dib could barely identify, much less hope to contain, as the rest of them settled down in hard, uncomfortable beds for night.

Zim of course, took the opportunity to be even more irritating than usual, running up and down the hallway and wishing everyone goodnight as he rushed from room to room. What truly boggled the mind is that he didn't even visit the rooms _in order_.

Dib heard the creak of his door opening, and then:

"GOODNIGHT SMELLY DIB-CREATURE!"

"Wha-?" was all Dib managed to say before Zim shut the door with a mighty slam.

Creak…

"GOODNIGHT SKOODGE!"

Another "slam!" followed by a hearty, rather feminine scream. It sounded like he had given the poor IRKEN a heart attack. Did they even _have_ hearts? Dib made a mental note to look into that in the morning.

"GOODNIGHT MY TALLEST RED!"

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me…"

Slam!

"GOODNIGHT, GIR!"

"I aaaaaate a monkey!"

Slam!

GOODNIGHT, GAZ-HUMAN!"

" I. Will. _End_. You."

Slam!

"GOODNIGHT MY TALLEST PURPLE!"

An exasperated groan, followed quickly by Red screaming, "Go to BED, Zim!"

Slam!

Dib rolled over and pulled the (hopefully clean) blanket over his head. How was it that Zim could manage to make even sleeping annoying?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References, etc.:
> 
> In one of the deleted episodes, Robo-Parents Gone Wild, Zim mentions that IRKENs apparently don't need to sleep. I assume that at one point in their evolutionary history that they did, so this was born of that assumption.
> 
> In the episode Hobo 15, we see IRKENs eating what looks like green pizza while Tallest Purple takes bets on how Zim is going to die.
> 
> Purple is seen using a pad and stylus several times throughout the show. I doubt this was actually supposed to have any significance, but it worked well as a plot point, so I took it.
> 
> Skoodge was apparently also going to be a regular fixture in the show, living in Zim's basement. I am basically going by the idea that the episodes that never made it to air are canon.
> 
> Author's Notes:
> 
> Sorry that this chapter took so long and that not a lot happened, I got busy with university. The next one shouldn't take half as long, I promise!
> 
> As one of you pointed out, it seems unlikely that Dib would actually trust the Tallest, and right you are! The only reason that didn't end up in chapter three was that a) I needed a good place to end the chapter, and b) If I had included it the chapter would have ended up being thirty pages long (And I will leave ridiculously long chapters to KnockPlease. That's her specialty).
> 
> I have absolutely no idea what a "garsplobasnatch" is, but knowing IRKENs it probably involves a lot of blood, guts, and death.
> 
> And snacks. Because everything IRKEN-related has to have snacks.
> 
> I feel like Gaz would indeed pity anyone who couldn't indulge in the wonder that are video games… Well, maybe for about five seconds. Less competition is still less competition, after all.
> 
> I always thought it would be funny if IRKENs actually made bug noises, so apparently now some of their swears are just weird, insect sounds. I don't know what Purple said, but it was a bad one.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is still reading this dumb thing! The next chapter shouldn't take half as long, I promise!
> 
> As always, reviews are welcomed!


	5. In Which Sleep Is For the Weak, and Dib Does a Little Dance

For a moment upon waking, Tallest Red had no idea where he was, and, as he would later reflect, that moment was the happiest moment he was going to have for a very long time.

 

Unfortunately though, the truth of his situation came flooding back to him. Planet gone. Massive gone. Ugly kid. Zim’s base. Zim. Sleep.

 

Groaning, he pulled the blanket up over his head and decided that maybe he would just stay for a while. A long while. Until-all-of-this-is-over-and-I-don’t-have-to-deal-with-it while.

Did sleep usually take away all context like that? Ugh. He gave his head a good shake to clear it. That had to be a tactical disadvantage. It was no wonder the superiority that was the IRKEN race had done away with it. Still though, there was something oddly pleasant about it. Something peaceful. Aside from a few flashes of colour, he couldn’t remember much.

 

Yawning, Red stretched out, removed the scratchy blanket and rolled out of bed, his back making an unpleasant crack as he did so. Note to self: Have house make bed that did not feel like a rock. Ew. And get better blankets, too; this one reeked of human. It just wasn’t enough that they were ugly, apparently. Why did they all have to smell so bad too?

 

He saw no trace of Purple as he headed down the stairs, taking care to be extra quiet as he passed Zim’s new sleeping quarters located at the end of the hall. His companion must have gotten up earlier and he hadn’t noticed, which seemed strange. If he was going to peg any one of them for a long sleeper, it would have to be Purple for… obvious reasons.

 

Red hovered towards the kitchen and immediately smacked his head on the doorframe. Ow! He grit his teeth, and, upon spotting the human larva sitting at the kitchen table looking grumpy and sporting enormous black bags under his eyes, resisted the overwhelming urge to repeat the unfortunate sound that Purple had made just yesterday.

 

“Gah!” He growled, hand to his head, “Why in the heck are these things so short?”

 

“Short?” The kid turned to him, looking perplexed. “They’ve got to be at least seven feet high.”

 

“Short,” Red snarled, and frantically massaged his aching forehead. This was yet another way in which humans made no sense. Instead of creating everything to accommodate the tallest of their species, they instead seemed to think that it would be better to create everything around what they assumed to be the average member of society. How very disrespectful.

 

It was then that Purple finally appeared, apparently having been in the living room. He hovered forward slowly, his eyes wide and unblinking in a perfect thousand-yard stare.

 

Slowly, and with all of the deliberation of someone about to try disarming a bomb, Purple pulled out a chair and sat down. What was wrong with him?

 

“HELLO!” Screamed a tinny voice, and out of nowhere, Gir appeared, jumping up and down with all the force of a jackhammer. “MORNIN’, PURPLE-MAMA!”

 

Purple jumped nearly three feet in the air, letting out a rather undignified squawk, picked up Gir and flung him at the wall so hard that it left a tiny, Gir-shaped hole. Alright, that was weird even for Purple. Red knew full well that Purple loved to throw things, usually at other people, but it had been a long, long time since he had seen Purple react like that, purely on instinct.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Red asked, raising an antenna.

 

Purple turned towards him, eyes wide and popping, the bags under them almost as dark as the ones the kid was sporting.

 

“Horrible visions… of DOOM.” He curled in on himself, teeth chattering. “Also, nachos. So many nachos.”

 

“So that’s why I heard someone yelling about nachos all night,” said the Dib-child, “I barely slept because of it, by the way, in case anyone’s interested.”

 

Of course it went without saying that no one was interested. Red was pretty sure the kid must have imagined it, anyway. Red himself had been in closest proximity to Purple the whole night, and he hadn’t heard a thing.

 

Gir pulled himself out of the wall in a tiny cloud of plaster and shrieked, “Purple-Momma dun’ throwed me good!”

 

It was then than Zim and Skoodge finally made their appearances, making their way down the steps with uncharacteristic caution, both wearing the same shell-shocked expression as Purple.

 

“Visions of doom,” said Zim, and Skoodge nodded in agreement.

 

“We just went through this,“ the Dib-child said bitterly. “Look, I don’t know what you’re so upset about, you just had a nightmare.”

 

What?

 

“A bad dream,” Dib elaborated. “Come on, you’ve got to know what it is, I’ve heard Zim use the word like, a thousand times.”

 

“I had always wondered about the origin of the term,” said Purple slowly, turning towards them. “But I didn’t know that it had anything to do with sleeping. Wait a minute, why ‘mare’?”

 

“I don’t know,” said the Dib-child, his voice muffled as he pulled his blanket up over his face.

 

So overdramatic thought Red, it’s no wonder that you’re Zim’s archenemy.

 

Red looked first from the Dib-child, to the shuddering Zim and Skoodge, and then to his still shell-shocked partner.

 

“… You’re all nuts,” said Red. “I slept the same as any of you and I didn’t have any ‘nightmares’.” He crossed his arms and gave his companions a look of utter contempt. He was very good at that look, having used it so many times over the years. When you were better than everybody else, it just came with the territory.

 

Purple looked up at him, eyes hard.

 

“I am never sleeping again.”

 

“That’s impossible at this point, you know that. Without IRK the PAKs are all funky.”

 

“Then I’m putting it off for as long as possible.”

 

Typical Purple. Once he got an idea in his head, there was no changing it. Just ask all of the deceased drones from the time Purple had gotten the idea for Super-Charged, Explosion Bowling. They were still cleaning the guts off of the walls from that one.

 

“Can you even do that?” Red asked. Sure, he knew that he was beyond changing Purple’s mind at this point, but sometimes it was fun to wind him up.

 

“Of course I can! I can do anything!” Purple crossed his arms with ‘clang’. “Sheer force of will.”

 

Sheer force of will, indeed. Red was torn on this one. On the one hand, Purple’s stubbornness was legendary. On the other hand, this was the same IRKEN who’d had to be banned from all organized sports in their youth because he kept getting bored waiting for the ball and just tackled people.

 

… And punched them.

 

… And bitten them.

 

Red had unfortunately been on the business end of that last one a few times, despite the fact that they had been on the same team. Red was pretty sure that he still had some scars in places where no decent IRKEN should be looking. Stupid Purple.

 

“You could try coffee,” said Dib, finally pulling his head out from the protection of his musty, yellow blanket (Which likely had not started life as yellow). “I don’t have any here, but Gaz left when the security system went down at about six in the morning, so the front door should be open by now. I think I know how to make it.”

 

“What is ‘coffee’?” Purple asked, slowly and carefully.

 

“It’s a drink,” Dib said, lifting his glasses so that he could rub at one eye with a closed fist, “Adults drink it to keep them awake. Apparently it works wonders.”

 

Purple cocked a suspicious antenna, and agreed to give this “coffee” a try. Skoodge announced that if one of his Tallest wasn’t sleeping, then neither was he, and Zim had quickly followed suit, not because he was scared of course, but because sleep was so inefficient and cut into his valuable Zim-time (As opposed to normal time? What did that even mean?). Of course.

 

Given that Purple proved unwilling to share any of this ‘coffee’, Zim had decided that if he simply kept moving non-stop that he wouldn’t risk falling asleep again (Although Red would be hard-pressed to explain to you how this was any different than normal) and Skoodge’s solution was to simply grab a roll of duct tape and literally tape his eyelids open. Brilliant.

 

The Dib-child shrugged the blanket off of his shoulders, wrinkling his nose with a mild look of disgust. “I’ll be back soon!” He announced as he made for the front door.

 

Red simply leaned back in his chair to observe. If nothing else, the ensuing chaos should prove very entertaining.

 

 

Dib was not back soon. In fact, he came back nearly an hour later, as once he had gotten home he had realized that Gaz had locked the front door and refused to open it as she was still mad at him for making them miss curfew.

 

Dib had been forced to do a little dance, announce to the entire world that he was indeed a ‘giant dweeb’, and create a polka in honour of Gaz’s favourite game, accordion solo and all, before she finally agreed to open the door and let him in.

 

He fumbled with the knob on Zim’s front door, trying desperately not to spill the roughly three dozen mugs of very hot coffee he was carrying in a flimsy cardboard box, complete with cream and sugar packets in the bottom. If he was certain of anything in this universe, it was that an IRKEN’s appetite was limitless, so he had planned ahead.

 

Once inside, he leaned his head through the archway into the kitchen, just to take a quick peek, and found Tallest Red in the corner, mucking around on Purple’s IRKpod and muttering to himself, Skoodge seated on one if the kitchen chairs, eyelids firmly taped open and staring at nothing, and Zim marching in place while Gir sat on his shoulders and yelled, “Giddyup, Horsie!” Just your typical morning with IRKENs. Someone should make a sitcom out of this.

 

Dib backed away from the kitchen and made his way slowly by steadily to Tallest Purple, who was sitting on the living room couch and pouting determinedly.

“Here it is!” said Dib, with much more enthusiasm than necessary.

 

“Bout’ time,” replied Purple, his pout, if anything, intensifying. “Did you know that I’ve been sitting here on the couch pouting for ten minutes straight, and no one even noticed? Even Red doesn’t care! It’s just not right!” He then sank deep into the couch, and did what Dib considered to be an Oscar-worthy impression of an angry six-year-old.

 

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Dib set the box of coffee paraphernalia on the ground before the childish, sulking insect.

 

“Well… maybe the coffee will make you feel better?” Dib tried. Smile and endure, Dib, smile and endure.

 

“Fine,” Said Tallest Purple, pulling himself out of his slump to glare at Dib. “I’ll try your disgusting Earth beverage. Gimme!”

 

Dib selected a mug- the clear one, with the glow-in-the-dark picture of his father’s face stamped on either side- and handed it to the Tallest.

 

“This is the plain stuff, black,” he explained, “of course, most people prefer to put cream and sug-“

 

But it was too late, Tallest Purple snatched the mug out of Dib hands and brought it to his mouth.

 

Purple took a gulp, and then, with a look of pure and utter disgust, spit hot coffee all over Dib.

 

Once Dib had finished rolling around on the floor and clawing at his burning eyes, he turned to Purple, expression dark.

 

“What in the heck was that for!” He asked.

 

“It tastes terrible!” Said Purple, looking down at Dib like he was a piece of something disgusting he had just found stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “How dare you subject me to something so unpleasant?”

 

Dib took a moment to breathe heavily and count to ten. The hypocrisy was absolutely amazing, just amazing! “Well, sorry about that, but that’s the way it tastes, unless you want to-“

 

“Seriously?” Purple snarled at them. Then all of the fight seemed to go out of him and he leaned back sulkily into the couch. “Fine, then,” he said, stuck out his tongue and dropped it into the drink.

 

Dib stared.

 

Not only because Purple’s segmented tongue was stuck out at least two to three feet, but because he could actually see the dark liquid disappearing from the glass.

 

“What-“ Dib closed his mouth and tried again. “Your tongue… What is that?!”

 

Purple sucked the segmented tube back into his mouth, “It’s a proboscis, stupid.” He said to him, as though it were the most obvious thing ever. “What, humans don’t have them? Oh, right, mammals. Hah! See? Inferior phylum.”

 

“But I’ve seen you eat solid food,” Dib protested

 

“Obviously we can. It works on solid things, too. Watch.”

 

With that he plucked a donut off of the arm of the couch and somehow, Dib did not want to know how, no, not at all, sucked it up his tongue. The donut moved slowly, a giant bulge moving through a cylinder far too small for it, the peristaltic motion pulling the food through it in short, wet, squelchy movements, convulsing and bulging the way Dib imagined that something would move through an internal organ. An internal organ that humanity had never been intended to see. Purple hacked, coughed and drooled as thing thing moved, up into his mouth and then down his throat, where he gave an enormous gulp and then turned back to Dib.

 

“See?” He said, while one of Dib’s lower eyelids twitched. “You don’t really taste it that way, though, which is why we usually chew. Which reminds me, you had better appreciate that demonstration! I basically just wasted a donut showing it to you.”

 

Dib stared, horrified.

 

“That was absolutely disgusting, and I never want to see anything like it ever again.”

 

“You see what I mean? You humans have such weak constitutions.” Purple crossed his arms and looked at Dib smugly. “Inferior phylum.”

 

Trying to get the horrifying image out of his head, and yet somehow knowing that now, for the rest of his life, he would be doomed to remember it in the recesses of his dreams and every time he sat down to dinner to eat, Dib picked up another mug- this one for some reason had Zim’s face on it, he didn’t even want to know why- plucked several packets of sugar from the box, and emptied them into the mug. He then picked up the little carton of cream he had brought with him, and stirred in a more than generous amount.

 

“Here,” he said, handing it to Purple, “this is the way most people drink it, with cream and sugar.” He didn’t bother to mention that most people didn’t add so much sugar that it accounted for nearly half of the drink, or poured in so much cream that it turned white.

 

Tallest Purple took it suspiciously, his eyes on Dib, paused for a moment and then took a sip.

 

Then he took another sip.

 

And another.

 

His eyes grew wide, and he took a big gulp.

 

“It’s like a donut and a cookie had babies and I plucked them away from their parents still writhing and screaming and devoured them whole.” He said.

 

“So, you like it?” Dib asked cautiously.

 

“What do you think, stupid?” Tallest Purple chucked the empty mug somewhere to the left, where there was an enormous crash and the distinctive sound of breaking china.

 

“Come on, kid. Gimme more, more!”

 

Dib obliged and handed the entire box to Purple, who quickly set about mixing up more coffee and immediately tossing the entire mugful down his throat when he was finished, not even bothering to complain that no one else was doing the mixing for him.

 

Dib backed away slowly and headed for the kitchen.

 

“Buff Hardback!” A voice shouted.

 

Dib turned to look at Tallest Red, who was waving the Irkpad triumphantly above his head.

 

“What?” Dib asked, not even registering what the IRKEN had said.

 

“Buff Hardback,” Tallest Red repeated. “Zim, get over here!” Zim obliged, tossing Gir from his shoulders and marching over to Red and Dib, where he continued marching in place. Somehow, even that was annoying.

 

“Buff Hardback?” Dib asked, “Wait,” recognition dawned in him, “you mean Buff Hardback the billionaire?”

 

“Probably,” said Tallest Red with a shrug, “truthfully, I don’t really care about what you humans do with yourselves, all I know is this guy has an alien artifact in the basement of one of his buildings that could help his rebuild Zim’s devoured-“ here, he shot a nasty look at Invader Skoodge, still sitting at the table, who seemed completely oblivious- “GDO”.

 

“An alien artifact?” Now that had gotten Dib’s attention, “What kind of alien artifact? Wait, how do you know this?”

 

“The IrkPad has just enough power to scan for alien technology within an a radius of about three of your puny Earth cities, not a lot, but enough for now. I found the location and the hacked into your human internet to figure out more about where it was being kept, which, by the way, I hope I never have to look at again!” He growled at Dib, as though the entire internet was his fault. Dib didn’t even want to know what Tallest Red might have seen.

 

“Intriguing,” said Zim, actually scratching his chin, “So, all we have to do is find this ‘Buff Hardback’, find out where he’s keeping the device, and steal it back from him. Then, VICTORY SHALL BE MINE!” Both Dib and Red back and winced at the sudden increase in volume.

 

“It might not be that easy,” said Dib, massaging one ear in the hopes that Zim hadn’t managed to permanently damage it. “I don’t pay much attention to him, but I know enough about Buff Hardback to know that he’s a billionaire. Made his money off of hotels and casinos. He’s bound to have a ridiculous amount of security. There’s no way we’re getting past it easily.”

 

A series of wet gurgling sounds came from the other room, and Dib wondered if Tallest Purple was going to be okay. Was it possible to drown drinking too much coffee?

 

“Hm,” Red paused for a minute, fiddled on the IrkPad and brought up a picture of a very gaudy multistory building, decked out in dark blue and gold.

 

“It looks like our artifact is located here, in the Buff Hardback Personal and Super-Elite More Royaltyer Than Any Other Hotel, deep underground.” Red looked pained at just saying the name. He paused. He seemed to be waiting for something.

 

“Stupid name!” Purple called from the living room. He hadn’t drowned after all.

 

“Thank you!” Red called back.

 

“Well then, this should be easy!” said Zim, his little feet still pounding the tile floor. “All I have to do is check in as a guest and sneak into the underground holding facility. Piece of cake!” He waved a dismissive hand.

 

“Not so cakey,” said Dib, “that’s not really a hotel, that’s his house. His own personal mansion. You can’t even get in unless you’re staff, and the screening progress is so rigorous that-“ He stopped, suddenly. “Wait a minute, what do you mean all you have to do is sneak in?”

 

Sure, at the moment he was helping the IRKENs. But any step closer to getting them off of his planet was a good thing. He was the world-saver, after all, and this was all a part of saving the world. Besides, he didn’t trust Zim for one second not to screw the whole thing up.

 

“Once again, Dib-creature, you prove the inferiority of your tiny human brain, with your inability to put together even the simplest thing. I, Zim, will sneak in and retrieve the item. You can just stay here and do… whatever it is you do whenever I’m not around. Truth be told, I don’t really know what that is, and I don’t really care.”

 

“Why you?” Dib narrowed his eyes at Zim. “I could do it. I’m the human. I know humans better than you ever will. Besides, you’ll probably just break it.”

 

“Lies!” Zim gasped, “Lies and slander!”

 

“I could do it-!” Skoodge added from somewhere in the corner of the kitchen, but no one paid him any attention.

 

“Come on,” Dib snarled at Zim, “do you really think you could do it? With your track record? You can’t even program a microwave without it exploding! Even your mission is-!”

 

Tallest Red’s head whirled around to face Dib, eyes narrowed and teeth bared.

 

Dib actually gulped and looked away. Maybe it was a left-over from human instincts a million years old, but a giant bug growling at you was actually kind of terrifying. Score one for the IRKENs, he guessed, or at least the ones big enough to stand over you. But humans are more than just their primitive instincts! The rational mind of a human being has a power stronger than even they know! Logic will prevail and humans will be victorious!

 

“… What is he doing?” Tallest Red asked Zim in a low voice, snapping Dib out of his reverie.

 

“I… don’t know,” Zim replied, equally confused. Both of them were looking at him like he’s just turned into an elephant.

 

It was then that Dib realized that during his determined thoughts he had accidentally struck a heroic pose, feet planted firmly on the ground and fist in the air.

 

Whoops, that was embarrassing, Usually when that happened no one by Gaz was around to see it, and she didn’t really care. Dib rearranged himself back into a normal position.

 

Red and Zim looked at each other for a moment, clearly decided that they probably didn’t want to know, shrugged, and looked back at Dib.

 

“How’s this?” said Tallest Red in that obviously fake, overly-friendly tone he usually used just before he blew someone up, “You can both go! Do your sneaky thing, get me the artifact, and whoever gets it first gets a prize. How does that sound?”

 

“What kind of a prize?” Dib asked suspiciously. He doubted that the Tallest would keep his word, and even if he did, he suspected that anything an IRKEN considered a prize was probably not something he would want.

 

“The kind that keeps you as far away from me as possible,” Red replied.

 

Dib sighed. Whatever. All he wanted at the moment was the prove that he could beat Zim, and that was better than any prize.

 

“I’m in if you’re in,” he turned the Zim and held out his hand. Zim- still marching in place, Dib had to compliment him on his tenacity, there- grasped it in his and the two shook solemnly.

 

The moment, of course, was then ruined by Purple leaning his head into the kitchen and shrieking, “Hey, kid! Where do I get more of that coffee?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for the long wait! Life kept me super busy so I didn’t have time to write. Also, sorry that not much happened in this chapter. Originally, it was also supposed to include Zim and Dib’s mission at Buff’s hotel, but it got way too long, so I divided it into two.
> 
>  
> 
> I know that I promised more Gir antics in this chapter, but that was before the split. Rest assured though, Gir will go wild(er) in the next one!
> 
>  
> 
> At least one person was wondering why I print “IRKEN” in all capitals. According to Jhonen Vasquez (He himself does it, too), that is what IRKENs in canon do, in order to be more annoying and I want my readers to have the full, incredibly irritating Invader Zim experience as they read.
> 
>  
> 
> I am a ridiculous bio nerd, especially when it comes to animals, so thinking up weird things that the IRKEN body can/should do is a lot of fun for me. I tend to base IKRENs off of the idea that they’re basically insects that have somehow also managed to become vertebrates at the same time, mixed in, of course, with a bunch of nonsensical alien weirdness.
> 
>  
> 
> (I am not joking about how much of a nerd I am, I literally came up with an entire evolutionary history for IRKENs, it is beyond embarrassing.)
> 
>  
> 
> I have no idea what Purple, Zim and Skoodge dreamed about. Running out of donuts? The collapse of the universe? BEES? This is cheesy, but I would love it if people would include what they think they might have dreamed about in the comments!
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> \- Mags

**Author's Note:**

> And that is the first chapter done! 
> 
> I started writing this mostly as an experiment to see if I could write in the style of the show, just coming up with random bits and pieces here and there, but then it sort of grew into an entire story in its own right, so I figured I might as well get some feedback.
> 
> This particular story is also on Fanfiction.net under the same title and pen name.
> 
> Technically this is my first proper fic, so any criticisms, suggestions, etc. would be greatly appreciated. And please, please, remember to leave a review!
> 
> Hope you will enjoy this,
> 
> \- Mags


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